


Overboard

by Nicolaruth27



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicolaruth27/pseuds/Nicolaruth27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Rizzles. Movie adaptation. When the obnoxious and entitled Maura Fairfield, heiress and all round rich bitch, falls overboard from her luxury yacht, it is plumber’s daughter, Jane Rizzoli - the woman she offended and verbally abused only days earlier - who finds her in the hospital with amnesia. Now Jane wants payback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Raucous, squawking seagulls bob up and down on the surface of the water, rising and falling, each foamy white crest lifting them higher than the last, as a large boat cuts a path through the hungry flock.

 

Though its top speed is normally impressive, today it limps along, the feint smell of burning oil chasing its looming shadow through the small harbor toward the dock.

 

Once tethered, the luxury cruiser is blindingly out of place next to a short string of weathered and rusting fishing boats. They are nestled opposite a large warehouse building, with no choice but to take refuge beneath giant letters that read ‘Nahant Bay Fertilizer Plant’.

 

The acrid smell of the dying engine is suddenly something the owner wishes was the only scent assaulting her nostrils. The foul odor of dead fish is so strong she thinks she might vomit into her bloody mary. The first call her husband makes to the mainland confirms her worst fears; they’re going to be stuck here for a while.

 

"Garrett!” she bawls from her sun lounger. “I cannot fester in this maggot pit by the sea with nothing to do. So, while you repair your silly boat engines, I will do some remodeling. I've sent for a plumber."

 

Mr. Fairfield won’t actually repair anything himself, of course, heavens no. The extent of his involvement started and ended with that phone call to a local marine mechanic. With his priorities in order, he carries on lining up his putting swing with the little white ball that sits atop a long strip of artificial turf.

 

"Whatever, love. I'm busy," he mutters, adjusting his dark sunglasses. With his clumsy, untrained swing, the ball misses its target by a country mile, dropping off the open upper deck and plopping into the dark blue below. “Fuck.”

 

oOo

 

A beaten old pickup truck sits in a dusty work yard, the perimeter of which is peppered with scrap metal and pipes of all sizes. Some tangles rise like sculptures, half-finished works of what at least one person would dare to call ‘art’.

 

Its owner, a tall, dark-haired woman is tinkering with an electric pump inside of a small plastic children’s swimming pool. At the flick of a switch, the spaghetti-like formation next to her, a mass of coils molded from copper pipe, suddenly springs to life, sucking up the water and spurting it into the sky.

 

“A-ha!” she whoops, punching the air. “It works!”

 

“Nice one, Janie,” a male voice drawls from across the yard, generating a scowl. “Now you just gotta finish it on time!”

 

Frankie lumbers lazily over to her as the door to the rickety wooden shack that serves as her business headquarters clatters closed behind him.

 

“Yeah, well, you could lend more of a hand now and again, y’know.” She snatches the note that he is holding out to her. “I could get a guard dog if I wanted someone just to sit around the yard and do nothing.”

 

A dark, bushy eyebrow lifts as he tilts his head to the side but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “A job came in. Wrote it down for you.” He points at the paper before using his fingers to make air quotes. His voice is comically high and haughty. “Apparently it’s ‘time sensitive’.”

 

Stuffing the note into a pocket, the brunette grabs her toolbelt off the ground with one hand and dusts it off with the other, getting ready to leave.

 

“What about Mrs. Talucci’s water feature?” he asks, looking over at the abandoned project that sits in the middle of the yard.

 

But she’s already at the truck, throwing her toolbox and toolbelt into the back. She climbs behind the wheel, turning to lean out the open window as the door closes, “You said ‘time sensitive’, Frankie, so I gotta go. I can’t turn down any jobs right now, y’know.”

 

It’s still very early and the more she hustles the more jobs she can complete. Sticking out an arm, she waves a hand in the air making vague circles at her younger brother, “Since I got the pump working it just needs attaching to the base and it’s all set. You know where Mrs. Talucci lives.”

 

“But -” he whines, getting a face full of dirt as the truck speeds out of the yard. Yelling fruitlessly, he thumps his fists against his thighs as he watches her drive away. “I gotta go, Jane! And you’re not even paying me!”

 

oOo

 

Jane leaves her truck in the warehouse parking lot and makes her way through the harbor on foot. It’s an inconvenience having to carry her tools all that way but what the hell, she considers it a blessing, an impromptu workout of sorts, since she’s getting a bit… soft, she thinks, around the middle.

 

She smiles warmly at the first dock worker that makes eye contact before looking down at the note that lists her customer’s information. "Hi. I’m looking for the… Auras Smile _?"_

 

He points her past the visible fishing boats, "Dock five. Can’t miss it!"

 

"Thank you." Jane turns and starts to walk down the boardwalk. There sits an enormous, gleaming white yacht the likes of which Nahant Bay has never seen in her lifetime. “Holy… shit,” she breathes in wonder.

 

There are other workmen milling about and a giant hatch is propped open on the side of the boat. She can see its internal organs pretty much, though they’re not as familiar to her as those beneath the hood of her truck.

 

The truck has seen better days and has been repaired so many times she could take apart the engine piece by piece and put it back together blindfolded. There are belts and bolts, pumps and pistons, valves and rubber hoses. It’s doubtful she could do the same here with the engine of a luxury seafaring vessel, it’d be like… performing an alien autopsy, or any autopsy for that matter; she wouldn’t know where to start.

 

Jane makes her way onto the boat at the rear where the deck is level with the edge of the dock. The large open space is painted with a giant H and the brunette’s eyes go wide as she stares around her feet. She’s never met anyone with enough money to buy a brand new car, never mind a yacht _and_ a helicopter.

 

"Hello! Mr. Fairfield?” she calls. “Anybody home? Hello!"

 

A man comes into view above her on the upper deck. "What do you want?!" he gruffs.

 

In crisp, white chinos, aviators, and a navy polo shirt he’s holding a scarily large, silver revolver, and though he doesn’t point the lethal weapon directly at Jane, she still takes a wary step back.

 

"Nice gun,” she gulps, “looks expensive." It’s not what she meant to say but her brain is busy pushing images of a memory she’d rather forget behind her eyes.

 

"Thank you. I have several," he boasts, his chest puffing out visibly.

 

 _I bet you do_ , she thinks, clearing her throat. _Classic overcompensation_. "Somebody call for a plumber?"

 

Groaning, uninterested, the man waves the gun around irresponsibly as he gestures behind him. "That's my wife's department."

 

"Could you tell me where your wife might... be?" But the man has already disappeared from view.

“That’s helpful,” she mutters, rolling her eyes before making her own way further into the interior of the boat. With any luck - not that Jane has much of it these days - she won’t come across anyone else who looks like they want to shoot her for trespassing.

 

oOo

 

Below deck she finds a gorgeous blonde woman lounging on a chaise in just a swimsuit and a thin, silk robe.

 

Hazel eyes sweep her from top to toe, judgment oozing from every pore of creamy, freckled skin. "You're the plumber?"

 

The brunette nods, eyes glancing down at her torso as the other woman rises to her feet. It clearly says so on the front of her coveralls - _Rizzoli & Sons Plumbing, Swampscott, Mass_. "Jane Rizzoli," she replies, sticking out a hand for a shake that never comes. _Mrs. Fairfield, I presume?_

 

The blonde simply raises her chin, just a fraction, but it’s enough.

 

At 5'11", not many people can ever truly look down their nose at Jane Rizzoli but, at what she estimates is a decidedly average 5'6" plus kitten heels, Mrs. Fairfield throws her the snobbish look with ease.

 

"You're late,” the woman barks, haughtily sauntering away. “References?"

 

Jane follows on instinct. "Well, no, not really. You see, I just moved back into the area... But I've been doing this kind of shi - work - for years. Lots of experience." Wide eyes investigate the interior decor as they weave through the cabin. Everything she sees - every piece of furniture, every painting, every vase – looks like it cost more than her house and truck combined. "Wow. This is... This is just beautiful!"

 

The woman gestures a hand and wiggles her fingers like she’s afraid she’ll catch something unpleasant. "Try not to touch anything."

 

The brunette nods again. "Oh, I won't." She has one hand on her toolbox while the other is pushed firmly into a pocket. She’d learned that lesson the hard way by taking her clumsy kids to visit their Uncle Giovanni at his antique pottery store. It took her three months to pay for everything that got broken that day.

 

"Susie will keep an eye on you."

 

Jane has no idea who Susie is _. What is it with these rich people and withholding information?_ "Maybe you'd like to take my fingerprints and get a DNA sample before I get started," she snarks.

 

The woman stops abruptly and turns, clearly not amused.

 

Stopping just short of bumping into the blonde, Jane holds her free hand up in surrender as she chuckles, "Just kidding."

 

There’s no attempt to grace her with anything even resembling a smile but Mrs. Fairfield does observe their proximity with a sneer. "Don't walk so close to me!"

 

"Okay!” Jane blurts. It’s more of a shrill squeak than anything else but the other woman doesn’t even blink. Jane stays rooted to the spot as the blonde moves away, just stares at her back and mouths the word _wow._ She considers forming an escape plan, making an excuse to leave, but depending on the specifics of the job this could be worth a lot of money and she feels there’s no real option but to stay and find out.

 

With the woman now at an appropriate distance, Jane dutifully follows. _I hope I don’t regret this._ “Where exactly is your plumbing problem?"

 

"The en suite," the blonde states impatiently, as if that’s akin to providing Jane with detailed, exhaustive, hand-drawn directions.

 

Eyes roll under dark tapered eyebrows. "Uh-huh." _Give me strength_. Jane follows obediently into the master bedroom.

 

Mrs. Fairfield crosses the room and opens another door, gesturing for Jane to come closer so she can take a look inside. "In here. Now, as you can see, this is totally inadequate. I need all new fixtures immediately."

 

Scratching her head, Jane drawls, "Uh, I thought this was some kind of emergency."

 

"It is,” the woman shrieks before launching into a tirade. “The finish is unbearable. Water spots are impossible to remove. I simply can't keep the cleaning maid down here twenty four hours a day and since we’re stuck in _this_ godforsaken place instead of New York -"

 

Jane has no choice but to interrupt - the blonde isn’t talking _to_ her anymore, it’s mostly devolved into mindless ranting - but she puts on a warm smile so as not to appear rude. She almost touches a hand to the woman’s arm to get her attention before she remembers it’s liable to get torn off. "Uh... Hey, I'm sorry. I understand now. You want me to remodel your bathroom."

 

The blonde scoffs, her face reddening, "Isn't that what I've been explaining in some detail? Is English your _second_ language?"

 

Jane presses a fist to her mouth to smother her words, "Is evil bitch _your_ second language?”

 

Nose crinkled, Mrs. Fairfield sniffs, leaning into the brunette. "What is that foul odor?"

 

Shaking her head, Jane lies easily, "I don't smell anything." In truth, her senses are locked onto Mrs. Fairfield's perfume. It is sweet like honey but she knows that's not what the blonde is talking about. She has showered this morning, like every morning, and though her tight white vest is pristine her coveralls have admittedly seen better days.

 

They are saved from any awkward mention of laundry and how hard it is to get out the stench of blocked drains by a woman in a black server’s uniform who appears in the doorway carrying a tray of food.

 

The blonde throws up her hands, "Oh, Susie, finally!"

 

Jane helps herself to a better look around the bathroom as Mrs. Fairfield pops something black into her mouth.

 

It is a good sized room and her creativity sparks to life in an instant. "You could have a wet room in here maybe," she ponders, almost to herself. Anything she could do, and she could do plenty, is absurdly unnecessary. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the room, its layout, or its fixtures to begin with. The most exclusive hotels in Boston probably don’t have bathrooms this nice. But she isn’t about to argue with the soulless woman and her platinum credit card.

 

Mrs. Fairfield’s attention remains elsewhere, allowing Jane to breathe easily just for a moment.

 

"What  _is_  this gelatinous muck?! Susie, when I tell you to pack staples, must I specify that you are to pack _good_ caviar and not this five dollar fish bait!"

 

"Yes, ma'am," Susie replies, monotone and apparently devoid of any personality.

 

Jane watches open-mouthed as the blonde closes her eyes and seems to get lost in her own vacuousness.

 

"Caviar should be _round_ and _hard_ and of adequate size. And it should burst in your mouth at _precisely_ the right moment." It’s not so much the words themselves, but the way she says them that is almost obscene.

 

"Yes, ma'am," Susie repeats, now visibly wilting.

 

Mrs. Fairfield snaps her fingers impatiently in Jane’s direction, "Plumber!"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You have precisely two days. I suggest you get started." Gesturing a hand at Susie's tray, the woman turns and walks away without even bothering to look at the diminutive crew member. "Throw that out," she orders.

 

Susie's chin falls to her chest, embarrassed, and Jane feels a warm flush on her behalf. "Yes, ma'am."

 

The heartless blonde is almost to the door when she calls shamelessly, "And _watch_ her."

 

Baring her teeth, growling, and squeezing her free hand into a painful fist makes Jane feel momentarily better despite the deliberate rudeness and blatant distrust. She’s not the one with the power here. It’s an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling.

 

Susie’s already made herself scarce as Jane sets the heavy toolbox down on top of the bedroom dresser. Without any detailed specifics from Mrs. Fairfield, she decides just to get on with the job that she’s mentally sketched, self-motivating by way of a silent chant; _I need the money, I need the money, I need the money._

 

oOo

 

Jane’s still working hard several hours after making the trip into town for materials. She can see Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield out on the deck through the blinds at the bedroom window. The woman is reclined on a sun lounger, where she’s been since Jane returned, while the crew fetches and carries to her every whim. The brunette doesn’t mean to keep watching as she works but it’s a bit like observing the zoo’s reptile enclosure; these people behave differently, foreign and exotic, and their particular strain of poison is maybe a little bit dangerous, but she just can’t stop.

 

Mrs. Fairfield is on the phone. "Mais oui! Bien sur! Oui? Ecoutez, Jean-Jacques. Je vous telephone..." She sips from a very full martini glass. "I know it's more than the last one I purchased, but it's the cutest little painting. I simply must have it. You'll do the bidding for me?" She takes an olive between her teeth, pulling it from the cocktail stick that had been stirring her drink. "But of course! No more than $700,000 okay?"

 

Jane shakes her head. _These people are unreal._

Another uniformed crew member is operating a skeet launcher at the bow. When she catches sight of Mr. Fairfield again he’s holding two revolvers this time, one in each hand and is strutting about the deck like a fucking mob boss wannabe.

 

"Pull!” he booms and two bright orange clay discs fly into the sky before arcing away. He lets off shot after shot from alternate hands, but the discs continue to glide, falling down into the surf still perfectly intact. "Shit!"

 

"Garrett, I'm on the PHONE!" the woman bellows. In truth, Mrs. Fairfield has already slammed down the handset in annoyance but he hasn’t noticed.

 

"I can't hear you, sugartits!” he sings, like he hears just fine but doesn’t give a damn before roaring in return. “I'm fucking shooting here! Pull!"

 

Two more discs soar effortlessly overhead and this time, through sheer luck, Jane reasons, rather than actual skill, one shatters, showering the deck and Mrs. Fairfield with shrapnel and dust.

 

It’s mere seconds after the blonde stops screaming at her husband that Jane hears the main cabin door slam and she ducks away from the window before she gets caught spying. She can’t help but snicker to herself. She’s glad she didn’t ditch this job immediately; it’s the most entertainment she’s gotten in a long time.

 

oOo

 

 

Jane is sitting on the end of the bed eating her lunch when Mrs. Fairfield saunters into the room. She removes her fingers from her mouth with a pop and gulps her food. "Hello."

 

Unresponsive, the blonde moves past her, bending over to retrieve something from a low drawer. Jane stares, her eyes wide as she takes in the non-existent back of the woman’s two-piece. There is nothing but a tiny string holding on the top part, and the bottom part... dear lord... disappears completely between firm, round buttocks.

 

Nothing is left to the imagination. The woman inarguably has the most killer body Jane has ever seen and the plumber's eyes are busy studying what looks like a birth mark when Mrs. Fairfield speaks again.

 

"Forks were invented so humans could at least make pretence of separating themselves from the apes."

 

"So were thumbs," Jane mumbles, stuffing another handful of food into her mouth.

The blonde stands and turns around with a sneer, "What did you say?"

Jane shakes her head, "Nothin'. Just..."

 

The front of the bikini is nothing short of deadly. And even though the blonde has just wrapped a sarong around her hips, covering her upper thighs somewhat, there is no shade from the glare of her twin assets. She is magnificent. Taut abs, defined shoulders... and the bitch is blessed with perfect, pert, round breasts.

 

Jane chews energetically and gulps again, licking her lips as her brain suffers yet another misfire, "... my stomach... grumbling."

 

Tutting, Mrs. Fairfield turns and leaves, "Well, try to control your bodily noises so I can hear myself think!"

 

Dark, burning eyes follow her ass as it sashays regally out of the room. Alone again, Jane lowers her Tupperware bowl onto her lap with one hand and slaps her cheek hard with the other. "No. Stop it," she growls. "It's just a job.” A huge sigh follows, “Get it done and get out." _The sooner the better._


	2. Chapter 2

On the outer deck of the Auras Smile, Susie is packing up a manicure kit, collecting items from a small side table next to Mrs. Fairfield’s sun lounger.

 

"These gnats keep landing on my wet nail polish. I guess I'm supposed to walk around with their little corpses stuck to my fingers."

 

Garrett, tanning a short distance away on his own sun lounger in just a pair of swim shorts sighs impatiently, drawing out every word for emphasis. "Maura, please. Shut. Up!"

 

"Excuse me?! she hisses. “ _You_ don't have to sit out here in the brine with your hair frizzing into oblivion. I look like a bushman."

 

He rolls his eyes behind dark lenses. "Just go inside if you don't like the sea air."

 

"I can't,” she snaps. “Because that swamp... _thing_ is still working on my shower. She's sweating all over the place. I doubt she's even housebroken."

 

"Bet she pees standing up, too," he snorts, making an unsavory gesture towards his groin.

 

Sitting up suddenly, she presses a finger to her lips and makes a noise that is anything but quiet, "Ssh!"

 

"What?" he exclaims, rising and wiping down his bare chest with a towel.

 

Pointing a ruby-tipped finger towards their bedroom window, she whispers accusingly, "She's listening."

 

He stands, throwing his towel down onto the lounger with force, patience totally depleted. "Who?"

 

"That plumber,” she grinds out, fully aware that Garrett’s IQ is considerably less than her own but still taken aback on occasion by his basic stupidity. “She's been hanging on our every word for the last two days."

 

Huffing, he heads for the cabin door. "It's your project, Maura. Deal with it." He waves a hand at a large uniformed male who still stands sentinel beside his vacated lounger, "Come on, man."

 

The Captain, resplendent in his bright white uniform exits the cabin just as Garrett reaches to open the door, "The engines are ready, sir."

 

"Alright, Doyle,” he grins, slapping the man on the arm. “Let's get going then."

 

With a roll of her eyes and a loud huff, Mrs. Fairfield vacates her own sun lounger and follows them inside the cabin.

 

oOo

 

Jane has packed up her tools and is wiping down the surfaces with a rag. She’s built up quite a sweat and has slipped off the top half of her coveralls, tying the loose arms in a knot around her waist above her toolbelt. _Bite your tongue for ten more minutes, collect the money and get the hell outta here._ She hurries, cleaning away the last of the dirt and dust as Mrs. Fairfield enters the bedroom. The brunette squeezes her slim body against the door frame as the blonde comes to stand in the opening.

 

"Well?" she asks, gesturing to her handy work.

Mrs. Fairfield is still staring at the sickeningly sweet fake smile Jane has managed to plaster on her face. "Are we amusing you?"

 

Jane merely shakes her head as her upturned lips flatline.

 

The blonde takes a step inside the bathroom and points at the shower head, "What... is this?"

 

"Uh, well, I'm done, Mrs. Fairfield. All finished. What do you think?" Jane wipes her hands on the rag over and over again. She’s never been this nervous showing her work to a customer before, but then she’s never met anyone as icy as Mrs. Fairfield before.

 

Again the woman points, and again the brunette doesn’t seem to catch her drift. "What is it?"

 

"Uh well, it's a power shower with a twist.” Jane leans in, careful not to come into contact with the woman, stretching out her hand to explain. “Just turn the water on and press any of these buttons here. Ya got your standard showerhead with additional hand-held nozzle, then ya got your full overhead rainfall depending on your mood, and ya got these... built into the walls too. Gives you three times the jets, not to mention a full body massage function..." She thinks she’s outdone herself given the two-day time constraint and the fact that she’d had to dial back her ambitious plans accordingly. Most people would kill for this kind of set up.

 

The woman’s eyes roll back and Jane’s eyebrows jump up to her hairline as a result, "Stop boring me with your absurdities. What are these made of?"

 

Forgetting where she is for a second, Jane over-enunciates as if she’s talking to a child. "It's called me-tal. Antique bronze to be precise."

 

"Bronze fixtures.” The blonde’s palms slap her upper thighs as she barks a humorless laugh. “Why am I even amazed?"

 

"I don't know,” Jane breathes, slowly and deeply, trying to inhale some self-control. _This oughtta be good._ Her boys would recognize her single, sharply-arched eyebrow as a dare that only a fool or the extremely brave would accept. “Why are you amazed?" she challenges.

 

"One would think you would know that luxury yachts require all _gold_ fixtures, not bronze, even in their bathrooms."

 

With a hand rubbing at the back of her neck underneath a long ponytail, Jane turns her head away and mutters into the wall, “Oh man, I’m gon’ kick her ass.”

 

When she looks back around Mrs. Fairfield’s piercing, accusing glare leaves her red hot.

 

The woman’s voice is low and dangerous. “What did you say?”

 

Unable to maintain eye contact for very long, Jane’s attention wanders to her toolbelt. "I said I could do them in brass,” she states, as if this is all perfectly normal. Unfastening the buckle and sliding the apparatus from her hips, she wants to sit down and rest instead of standing here bickering with this infernal woman. “Look, I don't understand what the problem is, but that's fine. I'll just start all over. I have to tell ya that's gonna more than double my price."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Jane frowns, not sure which part of what she just said would be hard to understand. "I mean... I've already done this once, so..."

 

It’s like pouring gasoline on an evil, blonde spark and the rich bitch explodes. "I'm not paying for your mistake!"

 

That is pretty much it for Jane. She knows she has a reputation for taking risks, but she is damn good at her job, and never puts up with someone telling her she is wrong when she knows different. "I'm not just gonna eat it on this deal," she argues.

 

The woman tears past her, crossing the bedroom and flinging the door open before turning to look back at the brunette with a sneer. "Why not?! You've eaten everything else here.” That earns her a small gasp and almost causes her to break out into a smile. “And you _will_ eat it… because I wanted gold!"

 

"Missus!” Jane stomps her foot, her every muscle fiber tense and rigid as the woman slinks away. She raises her voice to make herself heard before snatching up her tools and deciding to give chase. “You may have _wanted_ gold, but you didn't _ask_ for it."

 

"The entire civilized world knows high end bathrooms should have gold fixtures!" the woman sasses.

 

It is kind of surprising to Jane that with such a huge chip on her shoulder the blonde is actually able to throw _that_ much condescension at her over it. Her work boots continue to thump through the cabin, "In Swampscott, we don't know anything about that. Shit, woman! You're lucky I _am_ housebroken!"

 

It’s Mrs. Fairfield’s turn to gasp and she stops dead, pivoting fully to face Jane in an instant, "You _were_ listening."

 

A careless shrug is all Jane can manage. She’s not even sorry for spying at this point; her guilt has evaporated thanks to her lightly simmering rage. "Well, it was kinda hard to avoid."

 

"You can avoid it now - you're fired!" The blonde turns away and stalks out of the cabin door at the opposite end of the boat from where their argument started.

 

"You're unbelievable!” Jane slams the cabin door behind her, pulling the handle with considerable strength. She imagines it coming off in her hand and knows she wouldn’t really care if it did. “That's fine with me!” she spits, wanting to be away from this floating hellhole as soon as possible. “Just pay me the money you owe me."

 

Still tottering onward, the blonde is defiant, "The job was not done to my satisfaction!"

 

"I got news for you, lady! No job will ever be done to your satisfaction!" Jane is still following, she’s not sure why, and they seem to be going back around the outer deck to where they started which doesn’t make any sense but she can’t stop herself.

 

"That's quite enough!” Mrs. Fairfield yells, pointing violently toward the dock. “Get out!"

 

"No problem!” Jane chuckles as she drops her toolbelt and toolbox at her feet. She decides she’ll stand here for as long as it takes for the woman to get sick of her and pay up. She rocks back on her heels, rests her butt against the deck rail and folds her arms across her chest. This woman might be a royal pain in the ass but no one does stubborn like a Rizzoli. Her smirk is positively obnoxious. “Pay me the money you owe me and I'm gone!"

 

The brunette winces when Mrs. Fairfield shrieks without warning. "Captain Doyle! Start up the engine!"

 

She’s known her less than forty-eight hours in total but Jane decides this woman needs a few home truths. "You know what your problem is? Huh? You're so goddamn bored you gotta invent things to bitch about. You haven't got a single thing to do except for your hair and nails. The bathroom was fine! You just needed somethin' to take up your useless, empty, rich-bitch, sun-tanning days because truthfully… you’re dead inside!"

 

Mrs. Fairfield doesn’t respond, but she does try to walk away until Jane’s hand inadvertently brushes her elbow. "Do not touch me!" she bites, snatching her arm away and using it to cover her chest.

 

Jane’s jaw drops, genuinely taken aback. "What?! You wish, lady! I ain't that desperate that I’m gonna feel up the Queen of the Dead. And I'm not goin' anywhere..."

 

But Mrs. Fairfield has other ideas.

 

Jane yelps in surprise as the irritated blonde shoves her suddenly, forcing her backwards over the rail. She plummets into the dark water, landing with an almighty splash.

 

The yacht is already starting to move away by the time Jane resurfaces, breathing hard and shivering. "Damn you!" she sputters. The sound of the blonde’s cackling laughter turns her blood to ice faster than the Atlantic waters she’s currently swimming in.

 

The loudspeaker mounted outside the bridge crackles to life, "Man overboard!"

 

"I'll get you for this!" Jane threatens as she watches Mrs. Fairfield saunter along the deck, teasing a hand along the rail before bending down to pick something up. "No!  Not my tool belt!" she cries, but it’s too late. It is already hitting the water as Mrs. Fairfield grins down at her, positively gleeful. "You owe me money!" she yells again, forcing the words through chattering teeth.

 

The captain has exited the bridge and is hurriedly approaching Mrs. Fairfield on deck. She waves him away, dismissing any concerns for the woman currently treading water in the harbor. She gestures in their direction of travel and orders, "Keep going!”

 

He nods, making no attempt to argue with her, "As you wish."

 

Jane’s angry cries float up from the ocean’s surface, "If I ever get you, lady, you're dead meat! You hear me?!" It isn’t until she sees Mrs. Fairfield and her bountiful smile once more that she stops the splashing of her flailing arms. Instead she lifts them, palms to the sky in total surrender. “No, don't throw that!”

 

Mercilessly, Mrs. Fairfield drops her toolbox without conscience or hesitation, sending the last of Jane’s livelihood into the murky depths of the bay. She leans over the rail once more and leaves her parting shot, "I'm not bored! I'm very happy! Everyone wants to be me!"

 

Jane furiously slaps the surface of the water, "You come back here!" But Mrs. Fairfield has already disappeared from view. There is nothing the chilled plumber can do but swim back to the dock as the boat cruises away, muttering curse words and promises of revenge under her breath the whole way.


	3. Chapter 3

Retired Coast Guard Lieutenant Vince Korsak is behind the bar drying glasses with a dishcloth when the brunette trudges into the empty Filthy Skipper through the rear entrance.

 

"Why the long face, Janie?"

 

She plops down onto a bar stool and sighs wearily. "I lost all my tools."

 

“What? How?”

 

“It’s a long story,” she breathes after a pause. She’ll probably explain later once she can bring herself to admit she had a part to play in their untimely burial at sea.

 

Angela Rizzoli comes in from the kitchen carrying a pile of silverware bundled up in napkins. "Your father might loan you some," she offers innocently.

 

Out of her mother’s line of sight, Jane grimaces at Vince and shakes her head. It’s a well-meaning suggestion but a ridiculous one. She and her siblings have had nothing to do with their useless sperm donor for years, not since he up and left them all with nothing but several very large loan demands. Her mother knows that, even if she sometimes tries to heal their wounds and defend her ex-husband.

 

"What about some part-time work?" Vince asks, steering them deftly away from the sensitive subject.

 

Nodding in agreement, Jane adds, "I need to quit the plumbing business and get a steady job."

 

This isn’t the first time she’s been in here asking for advice and she knows it makes Vince happy that she finds them both approachable. He’s always happy when she comes to him in particular. He feels like her father, had done long before he and Angela ever got together, and makes every effort to act like he thinks a good father should.

 

"Did you hear back about that night-time thing?"

 

"Nah. Still waiting," she shrugs, wondering how many people they could possibly have to choose from for such a filthy, smelly job as shoveling fish guts.

 

Done cleaning and re-setting tables, Angela throws an arm around Jane’s shoulders as she presses up behind her. "Listen, baby, pretty soon you'll get that miniature golf deal and everything will be alright."

 

A grateful smile comes easily; her mother can always make her feel better in an instant. But the reality of her dwindling finances settles in and the smile quickly drops off. With her elbows propped on the bar, her head falls forward and she catches it in her hands. "If I can hang on that long."

 

oOo

 

The battered blue truck pulls into the driveway and Jane jumps out the second it's stationary. She eyes the strange car parked six feet away on the street as she walks towards the porch stairs, yelling to whichever of her boys might be within earshot. "Hey, guys, I'm home!"

 

A frazzled, frumpy looking woman hustles out of the front door, followed by a very energetic dog, meeting her halfway. "Stay away! No! Shoo! Bad dog! Go away!" she clucks, turning this way and that.

 

Jane bats at the oversized Yorkshire Terrier-mutt cross as it leaps and jumps at the woman, pawing at her legs and clawing at the bottom of her dress. "Jo Friday! Get back inside!"

 

Clearly feeling extremely harassed, the woman stands upright and swipes wild hair from her face. "Are you Mrs. Rizzoli?"

 

"Yeah!" Jane is grinning, she doesn't often have visitors and when she does they don't often provide this much entertainment. "You look like the morning after Halloween. Probably had a day like I did. What happened to you?"

 

"Your boys!" the woman screeches, making Jane's head jerk back. "Monday is their first day of school and I came here to welcome your family. And what do I get in return? I get toilet-papered by your children!"

 

It's only now that Jo Friday has stopped springing about their feet and her attention isn’t locked onto the woman's funny facial expressions that the brunette can see she's frantically pulling the white strips from her body. Pieces flutter to the ground as Jane shrugs, "They're just playin' around!"

 

"Just playin' around?" she shrieks. "They were about to douse me in gasoline -!"

 

"Wait, wait! Stop." Holding her hands out, Jane feels this has all gotten out of hand. The woman clearly has the wrong idea about her boys. "Andy and Charlie, they're just going through a phase, keep burning stuff. It'll pass." She points to red canisters sitting by the front door on the porch. "In the meantime, I got some fire extinguishers ready to go." She follows up with, "I didn't catch your name," not leaving the woman time to object. 

 

Huffing loudly and finishing straightening her clothes now that she's free of toilet paper, the woman croaks, "Winifred Burbridge."

 

Jane sticks out her hand, "Nice to meet you."

 

Surprisingly, the woman takes it. "Principal of Swampscott School," she informs, barely taking a breath before adding, "Your children are monsters!"

 

With a wave of her hand Jane dismisses the woman and her ridiculous comment. "Aw, you won't think that once you get to know 'em!" Honestly, just how serious does she expect boys to be? Kids gotta be kids and kids gotta play. Jane doesn't think there's anything left to say and she starts to walk away.

 

But then... "Where is Mr. Rizzoli during all of this?"

 

Jane's head falls forward, her chin almost hitting her chest as she takes a second just to breathe. She's not exactly surprised. The question was bound to crop up eventually though it's never a joy answering it. "Missus," she says without turning around. "She left."

 

Usually that's enough to discourage any further conversation - Jane's fine with that aspect - but the woman is undeterred. "Mrs. Rizzoli, your children are totally lacking in proper parental supervision."

 

Jane is all smiles and bouncing energy when she turns to face the woman again. "Hey, you don't have to tell  _me_ , these kids are very lucky."

 

Finally, it's her unbridled sarcasm that lets the teacher know she isn't wanted and the woman turns to leave. "Fine. You can joke all you want, but I am serious about this. If you don't do something," she points, "I am going to notify the proper authorities."

 

Jane takes several steps back down the driveway, following the woman toward her car. "I have had babysitters in here by the dozen, but... I'm... I'm kinda low on cash right now. I'm new in town, but if I get a chance I'll hire a housekeeper, all right?"

 

The woman doesn't stop walking as she speaks. "I'll believe it when I see it. Good day, Mrs. Rizzoli!"

 

Feeling a bit numb, Jane considers this a bad dream that she can't escape. Her life wasn't meant to be this way. She's brimming with heartache and self-doubt, totally unlike herself because she usually keeps such a good lid on it, but the last few days have just been... too much.

 

"I'm a good mother!" she screams down the street, watching the woman's compact car disappear around a corner.

 

She isn't sure if Mrs. Burbridge heard her. She isn't sure if those words were even really for Mrs. Burbridge's benefit.  

 

oOo

 

"She called you a what?”

 

Constance LaRoche is highly amused. Her daughter knows this because she tittered, and she never titters. Maura would swear if her mother ever caught  _her_  tittering she would call it unbecoming or some such thing. She can still hear her mother’s amusement in every word that comes through the cabin phone; not quite the sympathy she had hoped to receive when she made the call. 

 

Maura, why are you so upset? Why in the world do you care what some plumber from Swampsville thinks of you?"

 

"Swampscott," she mumbles absently. The blonde considers, tilting her head to the side, wondering indeed why she had let the bullish brunette get so entirely under her skin. There are several possibilities and certainly one that she will absolutely _not_ entertain. Some of the more... visceral reactions she had undergone are reasonably explained away. They definitely hadn't been caused by long, thick curls that shone like burnt mahogany, the earthy musk of exertion, or tanned olive skin flexing over strong, lean muscle...  "I'm sure I'm just premenstrual."

 

"Ah," Constance murmurs. "Then you must go right back to bed for at least two days."

 

 _Oh no_ , she thinks.  _No need to encourage him_. Not to mention she disagrees with her mother's idea - and granted, she never _has_ mentioned it - that a perfectly normal monthly cycle is somehow debilitating enough to make her useless. "Garrett mentioned having a baby again. What should I do?"

 

"Darling," her mother sings, "if you  _have_  a baby, it means you’ll no longer  _be_  his baby."

 

"True," she says automatically.  As an ambitious young woman she'd never really aspired to be someone's baby. That came later with constant encouragement, both of their families successfully wearing her down. She doesn't think she's been Garrett's  _baby_  for very a long time. If ever. 

 

The prolonged silence is awkward and Constance sighs, "Well, I really must go. Bonsoir, cherie."

 

Maura's response is meek, her sadness barely concealed. "Bonsoir, Maman."

 

Garrett enters their bedroom just as Maura places the phone on the bedside table. She busies herself with turning on the television and scrolls through the channels, keeping her eyes from his body as he undresses and gets ready for bed. 

 

He crawls naked under the covers and she turns to him, pouting and fluttering her eyelashes. "I'm not a bitch. Am I?"

 

He turns to meet her and proceeds to wrap his arms around her. “Of course not, baby. You’re a saint. A beautiful, sexy saint.”

 

When he presses closer yet, pulling her into him and forcing his hips forward, she swipes at his creeping hands. "Not tonight, Garrett."

 

"Maura, I want you," he huffs. "How can you have your period every week?!"

 

Wrapping the duvet across her body, up underneath her armpits, she cocoons herself in place of giving him a response that she knows would be a lie. It's a lie she's used often. With just enough deflection and misdirection, any amount of scientific jargon is sufficient to confuse and confound him. He's too stupid and too self absorbed to know better.

 

When the commercials end and Dateline starts up he gestures at the television. "Must you watch that damn thing incessantly?"

 

"Yes, I must," she snaps. "I like the escape, it soothes my nerves." No matter how weird he thinks she is she can't stop watching the homicide show. It fascinates her. And once per evening isn't _incessantly_ , she fumes silently.

 

"What you have to escape from, I can't possibly imagine."

 

In truth, it isn't so much 'watching', or even escaping, as fantasizing. She can imagine slipping on the medical examiner's shoes, assisting the investigators, finding the clues, solving the case. Making a difference. Putting to good use all the knowledge she has stored away. 

 

Occasionally she remembers... the dreams and wishes that were buried long ago. Hidden deep, underneath a lifetime of privilege and an adulthood spent molding herself to other people's wishes, is everything she learned at medical school.

 

In the short time she's been zoned out, Maura returns to find herself fidgeting. She's running the fingers of her right hand up and down the third finger of her left, searching to feel the weight, the form of the one thing that permanently tethers her to this unchangeable reality.

 

But it isn't there. And suddenly she remembers Susie and her manicure kit.

 

"Garrett! I left my wedding ring on the deck."

 

"And?" He's lying on his side, facing away from her sulking, and doesn't bother to move. 

 

She attempts her tried and trusted tactic of playing the damsel in distress by softening her voice and raising it an octave. "Go and get it for me."

 

Garrett huffs, turning onto his back and moving to sit up against the pillows. "It's after midnight!"

 

"I don't care what time it is!" she whines horribly. 

 

Garrett doesn't move except to snatch up the television remote from the bed and, despite the fact that Maura's favorite show is far from over, he changes the channel. "I want to check the results."

 

Throwing the covers off messily, she launches herself from the mattress. "I'll get it myself!"

 

"Oh-kay," he sings as she slams the bedroom door behind her.

 

Her husband's indifference to her needs, essential and insignificant alike, is no surprise. She's almost happy to leave the room, lest she gain any knowledge of his bets. Knowing the names of the horses that fell at the first fence doesn't interest her, nor does knowing how much of her money he has squandered on this most recent occasion.

 

Ignorance is preferable where men and their hobbies are concerned, she tells herself; something her mother drummed into her. She wouldn't really miss the money anyway, no matter how much he lost, and she reasons it away easily.  She isn't exactly economical with the many millions that sit in her own personal account. But then, everyone deserves nice things, herself in particular. It helps to keep some of the bitterness at bay. 

 

oOo

 

Wishing she hadn't stormed out without grabbing her robe, she shivers against the cold as she makes her way out onto the deck.

 

The wind is whipping up a storm and the frigid night takes Maura's breath away. She clings to the deck rail just to remain upright as the boat pitches back and forth. This isn't turning out to be one of her better ideas.

 

 _"_ Garrett!"

 

Her cries, no matter how loud, are wasted as the wind catches them and carries them effortlessly out to sea. The boat hits another huge wave in the pitch black and it lurches without warning. "Oh, my god!”

 

She has spotted the ring on the table but it slides out of reach as the boat tips the opposite way. It's now or never, she thinks, before the diamond disappears into the Atlantic. If she makes a dash and grab she can get the ring and be back inside the cabin in a matter of seconds. Then it's just a case of warming her frozen toes on Garrett's hairy legs and she can put this horrible day to bed. 

 

Deciding to just go for it, she releases her handhold on the rail and walks as briskly as she can manage. The ring is only a hands length away when a rogue wave comes over the side. “Help! Garrett!"

 

Dash and grab turns into slip and slide as she fails to steady herself on the wet floor. The ring is gone the next time she looks, washed off the table and into the drink. With her rescue mission now pointless, she turns to go back inside, just as a huge wall of water lifts the bow.

 

It happens so fast she has no time to react. Falling backwards, unstoppable momentum throws her over the edge. "Aaaaaarrghhhhh..."

 

The back of her head hits the side of the boat with a sickening crack and her limp body falls into the water as her terrified scream is swallowed up by the night. 


	4. Chapter 4

Korsak is busy watching the television mounted on the wall behind the bar as Jane works on the old pipes of the Filthy Skipper. 

 

Occasional bangs and squeaks and the firing up of a welding torch can be heard over the sounds from the television and each time she grunts in exasperation he puts down his bag of peanuts, pushes up from his stool, and peers over the bar to check her progress. 

 

For the most part he leaves her to it - he knows she'll ask for help if she really needs it - but one particularly strenuous groan grabs his attention. "Having any trouble there, Jane?"

 

"You could say that," she replies, her voice muffled by the sinks and beer pumps that separate them. "These pipes are shot. Gotta replace 'em rather than patch 'em. It's no wonder they were leaking."

 

"Do whatever you need to," he says easily, his eyes back on the screen. "Just make sure you bill me for everything, okay?"

 

She doesn't reply, just keeps tinkering below, but he hears a big sigh that indicates he might have trouble getting her to take his money. Sure, Angela might give her grief for not giving him the usual friends and family discount, but he knows he can take care of it, and that Jane needs the money more than she needs to be giving away free materials and labor. 

 

A commercial break gives way to an unscheduled news report as Korsak returns to chewing his salty bar snacks.

 

" _Another bright good morning to you! This is Wilbur Budd here at WCVB. We interrupt your movie for some excitement in Mattapan. It seems a mystery woman was picked up by the Hingham Bay garbage scow shortly after midnight. They fished her out of the water and transferred her to Carney Hospital. She's apparently conscious but seems to be suffering from amnesia. She has absolutely no recollection of who she is. Our correspondent, Kitty, is with the captain of the garbage scow that picked up the mystery lady. Kitty?"_

 

The standard studio shot of a suited man behind a desk switches to that of a beautiful blonde on location. She is very well dressed and looks decidedly out of place surrounded by dirty seamen. 

 

_"Mr. Tunatti. Can you tell us what the woman was like when you brought her aboard?"_

 

With the woman's oversized microphone shoved in his face he does a double take at the camera before starting to speak. " _Yes. We saw something float in water like this."_ He lifts his arms up by his ears and drops his head back, mouth open and eyes rolling dramatically, making the most of his five seconds of fame.  _"Just like that. We didn't know it... We bring... on board._ _No clothes,"_ he gasps, eyes wide before a scandalous chuckle and a huge smile fill the screen. " _Just a little thing,"_ he adds, forming an hourglass shaped body with his hands and slipping the reporter a salacious wink. " _Mulher bonita!”_

 

The blonde swallows hard, clearly uncomfortable, before looking back into camera.  _"There you have it. Thank you, Mr. Tunatti."_

 

He leans across her, his mouth chasing the microphone even though she's clearly intended for that to be the end of his contribution to this news piece.  _"Thank you_.  _Garbage I do for money. For love, I sing_." He wails down her ear and she visibly winces before catching herself and forcing a smile to camera. _"E-eee O-oooooh amor..."_

 

She takes a step to the side, moving away from the singing sailor as the camera zooms in, cutting him and his colleagues out of the frame.  _"Isn't that interesting?_ " she says unconvincingly as she presses a finger to her earpiece to block out the din. " _We have a Renaissance garbageman_.  _Back to you, Wilbur."_

 

The screen is filled by the man in the studio once more. _"Thank you, Kitty. Now, folks, here's an interview that was taped earlier at the hospital. We hope by broadcasting it we might help in identifying the woman."_

 

A caption at the bottom of the screen pops up as they show a man in a white medical coat. It reads 'Dr. Pike M.D.' and the man is addressing a small blonde woman who is resting in a hospital bed.  _"Miss, miss_  ...    _do you know your name?"_

 

She seems harassed, as if they've gone over this routine many times before _. "Of course I know my name!_    _It's_..." She shakes her head, as if trying to dislodge a memory and then throws up her hands." _Oh! This is absurd!_   _I know it! It's..."_ Frustration quickly turns to anger and her eyes lock onto the cameraman.  _"You wanna end up in a body bag?!"_  she cries.

 

The final shot is of a palm covering the camera lens. " _Get that thing out of my face!"_

 

oOo

 

She's aghast. Nothing they say makes any sense to her. How is this possible? She sits bolt upright in the bed, rigid and fuming. "You mean to tell me that I have no medical recourse?"

 

The white-coated doctor is flanked by two male nurses in blue scrubs. He looks around at each of them, which she finds preposterous because surely he would know more than they do about... well, everything. He says nothing but shakes his head, no. 

 

"Well, what do you know?" she drawls. Clearly even the doctor is an idiot. "Extend your brain a teensy little bit, if possible!"

 

Dr. Pike takes a deep breath, fortifying himself. "You seem to be suffering from a temporary amnesia, either from the bump to your head or the shock of the cold water."

 

The prickly patient closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "How temporary?"

 

Too intimidated to look her in the eye, he scratches an index finger at his temple while his gaze searches the floor. "Well, we can’t be sure." There's barely a pause before he claps and moves on, "Otherwise, you seem to be in excellent physical shape."

 

A male nurse blatantly ogles her, despite the oversized and unflattering hospital gown she wears and the birds nest hair on her head, as he echoes, "Mm, excellent."

 

Past her absolute limit, she violently thumps her fists into the mattress. "Listen to me, medical people. As of now, I have a life history of a dirty garbage scow and a breakfast of extremely runny eggs over easy! Now I refuse... refuse... to be incarcerated in this semi-private room!" The look she throws at the old woman across the way would incinerate most people but her fellow patient is too busy picking her nose and breaking wind to notice. The blonde wishes she hadn't looked, "Ugh."

 

Throwing a nod at one of the nurses, instructing without saying a word, the doctor tries to placate the feisty woman. "Now, Miss, uh... Doe, we have a comfortable private room for you where you'll be safer, we'll all be safer, and you'll be a lot more comfortable."

 

"Well," she huffs. "I'm glad you've  _finally_  come to your senses! I was seriously considering litigation." She lifts an index finger into the air, "I don't know who I am, but I'm sure I have a lawyer."

 

"Efforts are underway to locate anyone who might know..."

 

Unable to suffer these incompetent fools much longer she growls, her entire body popping and jumping, threatening to bounce right off the bed. "I demand you try harder! Do you hear me?!"

 

oOo

 

Behind the window of the nurse’s office, hidden by the darkness of the room and the harshness of the tiny ward's fluorescent lights outside, Garrett Fairfield stands watch.

 

A mountainous man in all black peers over his shoulder and whispers, "Can she see us?"

 

He's suffered through enough episodes of his wife's favorite show to know how this works; they can see out but she can't see in, like they’re observing a suspect undergoing interrogation. "Not unless she's Superwoman," he replies.

 

A nurse enters the room and they turn to face him. He smiles hopefully. "Is that her?"

 

With a quick look back towards the blonde, Garrett shakes his head emphatically, forcing the sly grin from his lips. When he looks back it is with a straight face. "No. I never saw her before in my life." 

 

oOo

 

When Jane rises from behind the bar, wiping her dirty hands on a rag, Korsak is nowhere to be found but Angela enters from the kitchen and throws her a bright smile.

 

"Hey, you about done?"

 

"Yeah," she breathes with a sigh, relief painting her face. "I think I got it fixed."

 

"Your lunch is on the counter," Angela says, pointing at the plate of sandwiches that sits at the end of the bar. 

 

“Thanks, Ma."

 

Jane grabs her handful of old tools - scavenged from underneath the back seat of her truck and any place else she could find them - and vacates to where the customers sit, dragging her plate with her and taking up a stool. 

 

The television is still on, has been all day, playing reruns of classic eighties movies that never get old. Jane lifts her eyes to the screen when the voice of the newscaster interrupts scheduled viewing again.

 

" _This is Wilbur Budd for WCVB_.  _We got some more_   _on that amnesia lady story_   _down there in Mattapan_."

 

Without looking away, she shouts, "Hey, Ma! Can I take some potato chips, too?"

 

"One bag!" Angela yells from where she's disappeared out back. 

 

Jane does a tiny fist pump before using her long legs to lift her torso onto the bar. She reaches an arm under, searching for the little bags. Finding one she snatches it up, sits back down and tucks into her sandwich.

 

When the brunette next looks up, the screen is split in two, the newscaster on the left, 'Dr. Pike. M.D.' on the right. _"The mystery woman is still suffering_   _from complete amnesia,"_ the doctor notes. He does sound comically desperate. " _If you know her identity, please contact Carney Hospital_.  _I'll put up the reward myself_.  _She's drivin' us crazy_."

 

 _"Thank you, Dr Pike._.."

 

They switch to showing a badly taken photograph of the blonde in her hospital gown next to a silent video clip. The woman is going berserk and is being circled by two wary nurses, their defensive stance not unlike that of lion tamers.

 

"Yo, Jane!" Korsak calls her name, not for the first time, but she doesn't respond. 

 

She’s fixated on the screen as the newscaster laughs,  _"She certainly seems like a strong character..."_

 

Korsak comes to stand by her side as she points, "Look at this!"

 

 _"In any event, there she is_   _and this is what she looks like_."

 

Mouth agape and arm still raised, she shrieks, "That's her!"

 

"Who?"

 

"The bitch!"

 

 _"Earlier today, one man arrived on_   _the scene to make an identification,but_..."

 

An almighty gasp is the best she can do given what she's seeing. Garrett Fairfield and his lackey are leaving the hospital. He's wearing dark sunglasses and keeps trying to cover the news camera with his outstretched hand, as if that makes him unidentifiable. "I can't believe it. Her husband's skippin' out on her."

 

Korsak laughs. The scene makes more sense now that he has been clued in. "Course he is! It's his shot at freedom." He claps Jane on the arm before making his way around the back of the bar. "You could go see if you can get your money back."

 

"Nah, it's pointless," she mumbles, forcing the words out through a bite of her sandwich. She chews quickly and swallows, lest her mother catch her speaking with her mouth full. "If they can't ID her it means she washed up without her purse..." No cash or credit cards, she thinks, but doesn't say it, just waves her hand in a circular motion, trying to connect the dots for him via vague sign language. 

 

"Ah." Korsak nods slowly, following easily without further explanation. "I guess she wouldn't remember who you were anyway."

 

"No. She..." Dark eyebrows rise as she contemplates an outrageous idea. It couldn't work, could it?

 

"What?" Vince frowns, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

The instant she decides it has potential she stands and slaps her palms on the bar top. "Oh, there is a God and he loves me."

 

Korsak's eyebrows meet in the middle as his frown deepens, watching her mind work, seeing the spark form and grow, "Jane? No."

 

What does she have to lose? "I gotta go talk to my kids. Then I gotta get Barry to take 'em shopping at the Salvation Army."

 

He is quick to jump in, pointing a finger first at her and then shucking a thumb over his shoulder at the screen. "What you're thinking of doing is illegal! You're crazy! She's bad news."

 

Jane is already almost to the door.

 

"Think about it," he pleads. Angela will skin him alive for allowing her eldest child to do something stupid. "Even her husband doesn’t want her."

 

Jane grins, unable to stand still with excitement. She's made up her mind. "No, I know... But her wife does!"

 

oOo

 

The doctor leads Jane into the nurse’s office just off the hospital ward. “We were starting to wonder if a woman like that even _had_ a partner,” he snarks.

 

“Oh yeah, she does,” Jane chuckles.

 

"There's not much in the way of personal effects." The doctor hands Jane a ridiculously large, ridiculously empty plastic box.

 

"Oh." Jane drops the box onto the nearest clear surface. Given what she has planned, she's not totally sure if a lack of personal effects is a help or a hindrance. 

 

The doctor reaches in, retrieving the only item contained inside. "Panties."

 

"Nice!" The male nurse that hovers, buzzing around them, is far too cheerful for Jane's liking and she throws him a frown to say so. 

 

"Some initials here, MF, she didn't know what they meant." Dr. Pike hands the purple thong to Jane.

 

Smoothing out the fabric to locate the embroidered monogram, she passes the pads of her fingers reverently over the letters. She's gotta keep up the act and make it good right from the beginning. This'll be a twenty-four seven, Oscar-worthy performance. Dreamily, she sighs, as if remembering the day with fondness, "She wouldn't because I bought these for her at a garage sale."

 

"I bought my wife a garter at a yard sale once," says the hovering nurse.

 

Deciding she needs every member of staff here on side in order to get what she wants, Jane doesn’t sneer at him like she wants to, but cocks an amused eyebrow and flashes a sultry smile instead. "I bet you did, Romeo."

 

The doctor motions to the office window, the suggestion forcing Jane to turn around as the nurse slips out into the ward. With the flick of a light switch and a swish of a bedside privacy curtain, Jane lays eyes on her target. "Yeah!” she cheers, “That's her. Oh, yeah. That's my little cookie-cutter."

 

"Quite a beauty!" says Dr. Pike.  It's not as convincing as if the horny little nurse had said it, but he's not wrong. He just sounds a little... weary. As if he knows, like Jane knows only too well, that the pretty on the outside doesn't count if the inside is ugly. 

 

Jane has to remind herself to smile. She's supposed to love this woman and be happy about it. "She's somethin', isn't she?"

 

The nurse renters the office and Dr. Pike grins like his lottery numbers just came up, "We have a winner!"

 

It's not a total surprise when the two men high five each other.

 

oOo

 

Jane tries to sound as affectionate as possible while still controlling the situation, "Honey! Stop!"

 

The blonde paces the floor beside her hospital bed before addressing the doctor, "I do not recognize this woman."

 

He leans into Jane a little more, brushing shoulders, keeping his voice low, "Your wife's had an almost total loss of memory."

 

"I-I can't believe she doesn't know me!" She says it softly, sadly, as if it’s just between them, but it’s not quiet enough for the blonde not to hear.

 

With the slap of a bare foot on linoleum, the woman growls, "This person is not my wife!"

 

Shoving her hands into her pockets, Jane’s body language suggests utter disappointment, "Oh, sweetie, please!"

 

"What's my name?" the blonde demands, her face like thunder.

 

Jane isn’t prepared for such a direct question and has to mentally kick herself for blurting, "Maura."

 

"Well, alright then," exclaims Dr. Pike, elated.

 

"That's not right,” the blonde points, her eyebrows drawn, eyes tight with suspicion and accusation. “That's not my name! This is completely crazy!"

 

Jane finally approaches the woman and gently takes her by the shoulders. "Honey, sit down. Everything's gonna be okay. Now... I  _am_  your wife. My name is Jane Rizzoli. We've been married for years."

 

The woman doesn’t want to sit, or lie down again for that matter, and she twists out of Jane’s grasp. "Wait! I admit I have forgotten numerous things. But I truly, from the depths of my soul, do not remember you!" She turns to address the doctor, begging him to understand. "Don't you think there'd be some spark of recognition?"

 

There’s a simultaneous shrug as his eyes meet those of the male nurse again. "We don't know."

 

Convincing Mrs. Fairfield is going to be nigh impossible, Jane realizes, and so she changes tactics and tries to convince the doctor who is responsible for her discharge. "Maybe you'll spark to this!" Grabbing the woman by the face, a palm on each cheek, she plants a firm kiss on her mouth.

 

"Ugh!” the woman groans, wiping the length of her forearm across her lips. “I don't believe this! She could be some stranger off the street!"

 

Dr. Pike shrugs again, "Well, she seems to like you and she's a nice lady."

 

"She's very good-lookin'," adds the male nurse.

 

Jane feels like she’s getting nowhere as the blonde questions her again. "What's my full name?"

 

She throws her hands up. "Oh, come on!"

 

"What is it?"

 

The plumber is her usual sarcastic self as she proudly declares, "Mrs. Maura Rizzoli!"

 

"What's my maiden name?" The woman’s arms are folded in challenge. She’s smug, like she knows for sure the brunette was just checkmated.

 

Using the blonde’s real first name is risky enough, she can’t possibly use her real surname too. In her pocket, fingers had played with a piece of tattered, screwed up paper and she retrieves it for something to do. "Maura..." _Think, idiot, think._ Her eyes drop to what she’d assumed was trash but what turns out to be treasure.  _Auras Smile_. "...Isles."

 

"Maura Isles?” the woman scoffs. “Where in God's name did I grow up?"

 

"Over in Belchertown,” Jane replies. She’s never been there but it’s far enough away and yet still in Massachusetts to be believable. “But it's a nuclear waste dump now..."

 

The woman visibly crumbles, slumping backward against the side of the bed. "Where did I meet you?"

 

Sitting down on the bed, Jane rubs a hand up and down the blonde’s thigh. "Hank's Donut World in Boston. You hung out there every night when you were in the Navy! You remember..."

 

Blonde eyebrows completely disappear under messy bangs and her voice jumps up in pitch, "I was in the armed forces?"

 

Jane nods, smiling sweetly, "I've still got your postcards from Okinawa..."

 

Putting a hand on Jane’s forearm, Maura checks, "Wait... the Navy?!"

 

"Oh, come on, honey! You gotta know _that_! You were in the Navy!"

 

Maura shakes herself again, wild hair falling around her face, "No, I don't know! I don't know any of this and I don't know you!" Her head whips around to the doctor and nurse, "I need some proof!”

 

Dr. Pike takes a step towards the bed, "Look, if it were up to us, we'd be glad to give her to you, but she's right. I'm gonna need some verification."

 

Standing, Jane closes the distance between herself and the doctor. Her voice is low and she peeks back at the blonde over her shoulder, "Oh, listen... I understand. Well... I know she might not like me sharing this with you, but... she does have a small strawberry-shaped birthmark, uh..." She twists around and sticks out her ass, showing the location by pointing a finger at her butt. "It's kinda high up on her... left cheek and it's very unique."

 

The blonde swishes the privacy curtain closed suddenly, clearly wanting to check for herself. Only ten seconds later the curtain slowly slides open again.  With disappointment and resignation painted across her face, she hides her head in her hands as Jane's face lights up in a massive grin.

 

Her arms are open wide. "Come to Mama!" 


	5. Chapter 5

The two women exit Jane's truck and start up the driveway.

 

"Welcome home, baby!" the brunette beams, her arms out wide as they regard her pokey homestead.

 

One look at the run down house makes Maura freeze. "I feel faint."

 

She’s wearing the only spare pair of coveralls Jane owns. They’re filthy and much too big, rolled up in the sleeves and at the ankles. A bungee cord is tied around her waist where they had to improvise a belt. The back is painted with the same Rizzoli & Sons logo as the truck.

 

Jane had made some joke during the journey home about wanting to change it. She agrees with the opinion that ‘Jane Rizzoli & occasional useless brother’ wouldn’t have quite the same ring to it.

 

The brunette's long stride puts her a few feet ahead and she bends down to pet the dog that is now yapping at her heels. "Come on, Jo!"

 

Running her eyes around the overgrown weed-ridden yard the blonde notices a rusted compact car that wouldn’t look out of place if it were tireless and up on blocks. "No. This is wrong," she murmurs.

 

Jane returns to sling an arm around her shoulders, pushing them towards the house. "Come along, now. We've only been here a couple of weeks. A lot of stuff's in boxes from the move, so I hardly recognize the place myself."

 

With the look of a nasty smell on her face, Maura squeaks, "We moved here... deliberately?"

 

"Yeah," Jane laughs, "Our last place was a real dump." Still holding onto Maura like a bodyguard, she guides them in through the front door. "Come on. Our new palace!" Releasing the shorter woman, she spins slowly, arms outstretched once more. "Well?"

 

Maura just stands there, confused and blinking. She can't string words together enough to convey the horror she is experiencing.

 

Unperturbed, Jane claps her shoulder once more and leads on. "Let me, uh... Let me show you around. Maybe something'll come back to you."

 

"Did I just go downhill?" Maura asks as she stumbles through the living area. Ironic, she thinks, calling it a living area since it smells like something died behind the couch. 

 

Jane just grins. "Look at that. It's comin' back already. Everything slants down here toward the bedroom." She points in several different directions in turn, before standing by a doorway at the rear of the house. "Dining room and toilet... Only one I'm afraid." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she opens the door behind her, "And here we are at the old, uh... magic room. Put a lot of miles on that mattress, huh?" Her eyes are bright, teasing, and she clicks her tongue as her gaze drags from Maura's toes up.

 

When their eyes meet, Maura’s hands are on her hips and she's clearly not amused. Jane shuts the door again with a bang and strides back across the lounge to where a dining table is squeezed into the corner of an open kitchen. "All right! Here's where we have breakfast every morning."

 

Maura’s morbid fascination with the mess inside this tiny house is interrupted by the sound of feet thumping down the stairs in the far corner.

 

"Oh-ho! Here they come!" Jane sings, clapping her hands with giddy excitement. 

 

First one small boy, then another, then another rushes into the room, running circles around them making Maura feel positively sick with dizziness. They yell and scream, not one at a time, but on top of each other. 

 

"Charlie tried to kill the turtle!"

 

"No, he didn't!"

 

"It slipped out of my hands!"

 

Jane spins, reaching out to latch a hand onto each child to make them stand still. "Hey, hey, guys! Whoa! Whoa! Hey, look who's home!"

 

They stand in perfect order in front of the taller woman, a row of perfect miniatures, all dark Mediterranean hair and bright white teeth. Their obedience is all at once a perfect contradiction to their rowdy, boisterous entrance.

 

"Hi, Mom," smiles the taller of the three. 

 

Then one of the shorter boys gushes, "Gee, Mom! We really missed you."

 

His carbon copy falls all over himself, too sickly sweet to be genuine. "We're so glad you're back."

 

The evidence seems irrefutable and Maura points her finger at the little ones while speaking to Jane. "They're... They're not mine."

 

"Oh, honey! I was sure you'd remember _them_!"

 

Looking at each boy in turn and gesturing with her hands, the blonde is no closer to being convinced, "Well, I think I'd remember if I had three -"

 

 _"Four,_  honey!" Jane interrupts, pointing back to the stairs where another, much smaller boy is smiling at her. "Don't forget little Johnny."

 

The room is silent as Jane has ever heard it as Maura collapses in a dead faint. 

 

oOo

 

Jane and her eldest have their ear pressed to the closed bedroom door.

 

"Hey, she's been in there for an hour. What did you guys get her?"

 

"Dresses," the boy answers with a shrug. 

 

He turns to walk away just as Jane grips him by the shoulder and turns him back to prolong the conversation, "What size?" Another shrug. She's used to it, the boy is thirteen going on thirty, and that fact alone explains almost all of his attitude-ridden behavior. 

 

"You didn't tell us a size. You just said get some dresses."

 

She sighs hard. "Okay, on the couch. Come on, guys, don't blow it." She shoves him gently in the middle of his back before doing the same to the other boys. 

 

The eldest boy is the first to slump down, brightening on a dime as he swipes at the glossy copy of Sports Illustrated that's poking out from underneath the coffee table. "Hey, a dirty magazine!"

 

"Baby doll?" Jane queries through the bedroom door, startled when it opens immediately and the blonde is suddenly in her face.

 

Maura stands in front of them, drowning in a dark dirt green floral dress that they all could likely fit into at once. It has frills and embellishments that have clearly seen better days, all frayed and tattered. "This garment cannot possibly be a part of my wardrobe. Let's forget for a moment that it's a _rag_ , but it happens to be twelve sizes too large." She doesn’t _know_ anything about fashion, not that she can remember, but she feels in her gut like she would.

 

Jane sniffs and wipes a finger underneath her nose. "It's... It's not that bad." It doesn't sound that convincing even to her own ears and she tries not to wince or laugh.

 

"Not that bad?!" Maura shrieks. 

 

"Well, come on, honey," Jane comforts, pulling her in front of a full length mirror that hangs on the wall. "You gotta admit, you've lost a lot of weight. Huh? You used to be like a balloon!"

 

The dress's pleated waist hangs somewhere around mid thigh, the hem almost down by her ankles. "Was I also shorter?" It's a genuine question, as she struggles to make sense of the ridiculous figure in the mirror. This must be what it feels like to use hallucinogenic drugs. 

 

"Yes! Yes, you had a bad back," Jane adds, compounding the lie but congratulating herself for the swiftness of her creativity. "You walked kinda hunched over, you know?" The brunette acts it out, arching her back and hobbling around the room. The demonstration might not make it more believable but at least it shows it to be plausible. 

 

"I was short _and_  fat?"

 

Jane knows every question Maura asks digs them all deeper into a hole and so she scrambles to change the subject. "Look, I'm sure you've got a million questions. You've been through hell. So, let's just take this thing one step at a time." It's becoming a habit to take Maura by the shoulders, but since the woman is fairly easily lead, physically at least, she's going to keep using the gentle and persuasive direction. She brings the blonde to the coffee table, facing the couch.

 

"First, let's meet the boys. In the middle we've got the twins - Andy and Charlie. Charlie likes to invent things."

 

Maura's eyebrows seem to do a double somersault, "Twins?!"

 

"Yeah. Obviously, they're not identical." Technically speaking, there are subtle differences, but it takes a good eye to spot them. 

 

"Or I'd look like a shithead!" one boy giggles, pointing at his brother.

 

"Who asked you, butthole?!" spits the other, rising to the intentional bait and swatting him with his hand.

 

Breaking them apart is nothing new, not that they ever really cause each other terrible harm, but this is neither the time nor place for bickering. Jane forces a laugh once she gets done pushing them back down into the couch. "They came out fighting and they're still at it!"

 

Andy smiles sweetly, too sweetly, and flutters his eyelashes, laying it on thick just like he had earlier upon her arrival. "Charlie and I get along very well, Mom. My twin brother and I are best friends."

 

"He's the actor in the family," Jane boasts, amused by his little performance before pointing at the oldest boy. "Then we got the big guy! Come on, honey, give it a try. What's his name?"

 

There's a long silence where everyone is locked onto the painful expression of Maura’s screwed up face. Eventually she offers, "Roy?"

 

"No," Jane sighs, faking her disappointment again. There's no way in hell a stranger could conceivably guess her kid's names and the fact that she made the woman try just tickles her inside. "Travis."

 

Travis isn't impressed. With his face buried back into the magazine he whispers, "Nice tits!"

 

Andy decides he wants to see and climbs over his brother to grab at it, "My turn!"

 

"Hey, what are you...?" Jane is quick to move around the coffee table and snatches the magazine away. She launches it back under the coffee table before taking a seat and ushering the smallest boy to stand between her wide open legs.  "I was hopin' you'd recall this guy. He's your newest, honey."

 

"Hi, Mom!" he squeaks, his voice high and sharp and unusual. "My name's Johnny."

 

Maura’s eyebrows lift to her hairline, "A falsetto child?!" But then, "Oh, there was a clinical study by speech pathologists that found links between voice disorders and oral motor and sensory dysfunction. Articulatory treatments and therapy programmes are available to correct it." She doesn't know where it comes from, but it seems relevant and gives her something to contribute to the conversation.

 

 _What the hell?_  "What?! No," Jane laughs, "he thinks he's Pee Wee Herman."

 

"I love Pee Wee Herman. Har har!" Johnny says, using the same silly voice again. 

 

Jane leans down and offers her boy a cheek, "Give your mama a kiss."

 

Johnny fights to get away, kicking his legs as his mother tips him over her knee and tickles his sides. "No! No! No!"

 

Charlie, Andy, and Travis have migrated from the couch and are now wrestling each other in one of the armchairs.  

 

It is Maura who brings it to Jane's attention. "Do they have a problem with their glands?"

 

The brunette stands, leaning over to swat her hands at arms and heads and little butts, "Hey, hey, guys, easy! Come on!"

 

The twins whine as one, "It's not us, Ma, it's Trav!"

 

She looks back at Maura with an expectant smile, "Ah, they're great boys, aren't they?"

 

"There's so many of them," the blonde whispers, slumping down onto the couch at Jane's side, drowning in disbelief and fear.

 

With a nudge and a wink, Jane piles on the torture, "You've always had your heart set on six, so... we'll just keep on tryin'."

 

Maura is staring at the boys, her head tilted to the side, wheels clearly turning, "They don't really look like me."

 

'They do take after your mother a little. Let's hope they don't grow up to be lushes, too."

 

The blonde's synapses are tying themselves in knots trying to make sense of everything. Her hands move of their own accord, pressing on her stomach. _Are they from my eggs or Jane's? Or both? Jane must have carried them, I think I would know if..._ "Wait. My mother's a lush?!"

 

" _Was_ , honey, was." Jane exaggerates a grimace. The lie comes easily and it's not good news. "Cirrhosis."

 

Maura’s jaw is slack. "She's...? What about my father?"

 

"Oh, he's alive and well." The sigh of relief Maura breathes out is halted when Jane slaps a hand on her knee and quickly adds, "And due for parole in ten years!"

 

"Oh, God! I don't wanna hear any more!" Tears that threaten almost escape as she cradles her face in her hands. She has no parents. She has no one. Well, that's not true, but they aren't the people that she wants. 

 

The first tiny grain of guilt settles in the pit of Jane's belly and she softens, "Look..."

 

"I just wanna remember for myself," Maura sniffs.

 

"The doctor says the best thing for you is to get back to your normal routine. You gotta get your memory back that way. You gotta do what you normally do."

 

The brunette's expression is so sympathetic, so loving and without guile that Maura wants to lean closer and be comforted. "What is it I normally do?"

 

Standing, Jane leads her by the hand into the kitchen, where a rather fresh chicken sits on the countertop surrounded by potatoes and other vegetables.

 

Having no memory means having no real expectations, but it doesn't mean Maura isn't still stunned by the scene. "I prepare and handle raw food?" she quivers.

 

"I hunt it. You cook it." Another lie, though 'hunt' isn't far from 'take as part payment for a plumbing job at a chicken farm' in Jane's opinion. She still worked for it. 

 

Maura's eyes are wide and pinned on the victim. "You shot a chicken?" It has already been plucked but doesn't appear to have any visible wounds. Who knows how it really died. She'll starve before she eats something with such a questionable cause of death.

 

Jane retreats, leaving her to figure it out alone. "Come on, honey! Save the jokes for later! We're starvin' here."

 

"Yeah!" one of the boys shouts.

 

When the blonde looks around, she finds them all sat expectantly at the kitchen table, eyes shining with amusement.

 

She picks up the bird and dumps it unceremoniously into a huge metal pot that sits on the stovetop. "It's strange, but... ooh!" A rogue chicken leg pops up, startling her with its ugly clawed foot. She gingerly pushes it back down, really not wanting to touch it and silently begging the bird to stay put. "... I feel as if I've never done this before in my life." The only thing clear to her is that she's talking to herself for the moment. 

 

At the dining table, Charlie is kneeling up on a chair, doodling with a crayon on some paper. "Ma, are you and Uncle Barry really gonna open a miniature golf course?"

 

"Yeah. I hope so," she breathes, lovingly ruffling his messy dark hair. "But we can't build it until someone agrees to pay for it."

 

"What's miniature golf?" asks Johnny.

 

"For midget brains, like you," butts Travis, sticking out his tongue at the little one. 

 

"I was only asking." The little boy sulks silently as the older boys continue to bicker among themselves. 

 

"You shut up!"

 

"You're gonna make my turtle sick again."

 

"Look at me, Ma!"

 

But Jane isn't paying attention. Maura's back is to her, providing a distracting view as she bends over the stove, throwing a jug of water and handfuls of unpeeled, uncut vegetables into the chicken pot.

 

Five minutes later, the blonde hasn't moved. She's still standing at the stove, lifting and replacing the pot lid, repeatedly peering into it, and scratching her head. With her hands on her hips, she stomps her foot and huffs, "Nothing's happening."

 

Jane jumps up from the kitchen table and sidles up behind her, "Well, pumpkin, you gotta light the burner." She reaches around either side of Maura's waist and turns a knob while pushing in a button.

 

Maura doesn't know what to do with herself. She wants to move but she is trapped, and turning one way or the other might mean touching the handsy brunette.

 

A flame roars to life, blue and orange licking at Maura's wrist as she fails to move her hand far enough away from the pot in time.

 

"Ow!" she shouts, causing one boy to yell ‘fire, fire!’ and another to run around the room in circles making fire engine noises.

 

Jane pulls the blonde towards the dining table and kicks a chair out. "Hey, come here. Sit down. Let me see your hand."

 

Maura's nose crinkles and she sniffs, tearing up, "I smell hair!"

 

"I'll get the burn ointment," Jane says, throwing it over her shoulder as she jogs out of the room.

 

Travis runs out the front door and back, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the porch and pulling off the plastic security tag without hesitation. He jumps in front of Maura and squeezes, covering her from neck to crotch in thick, white foam.

 

Maura is frozen. Stunned into silence and unmoving, save for the motion of her lips, spitting and blowing unsavory white flecks from her mouth.

 

Jane hesitates for a two seconds as she re-enters the room, stifling a snort and mentally high-fiving her kid. "You'll be all right," she says as she kneels next to Maura, wiping foam from the woman's hand and arm so she can get a better look.

 

The blonde flinches as Jane's fingers find the tender spot. "Ouch!"

 

"Okay, let's see..." She rubs ointment onto reddened skin while addressing her children who are now slumped down on the sofa, "Way to hustle, guys!" She looks back at Maura and softly asks, "You all right?" When no response is forthcoming, she takes the woman's elbow and pulls her up off the chair, leading her out of the room. Shrugging, as if this is an everyday occurrence, she concludes, "Well, at least now we know the extinguishers work."


	6. Chapter 6

Jane puts down her silverware, metal clinking on crockery, and rubs at her stomach, satisfied. "Pretty good eats!"

 

Travis is still picking through the food on his plate, his top lip curled up in distaste, "Should mashed potatoes be crunchy?"

 

When the brunette gets up and throws on a jacket, Maura panics, "Where are you going?"

 

"Out," she says simply. "I go out every night after dinner. Meet the boys for a couple of beers."

 

"Don't leave me alone with them!" the blonde pleads, unable to stop herself from grasping at Jane's arm. 

 

The brunette brushes her off; this is simply a part of how Mrs. Fairfield will pay off what she owes. She tries not to enjoy it _too_ much but it's hard. "Come on, honey. That's not fair. You know we live like this. Never bothered you before. It's just the way it is. You'd better get used to it."

 

Crestfallen, Maura pouts, "When are you coming home?"

 

A shrug is all Jane gives her before she turns to leave, not looking back. "When I feel like it. It just depends on how drunk I get." 

 

oOo

 

Barry Frost sets two bottles of beer down on the table and takes a seat opposite his best friend. "How's it goin' with your debutante?"

 

Picking up a bottle, Jane lifts the nectar to her lips and shrugs before taking a long drink, "She's one lousy cook! But as long as I don't have to do it."

 

Jane can't cook either, they both know this, and Barry chuckles at the irony. "How long are you gonna keep her?"

 

Pursing her lips, she tips her head side to side as she mentally calculates the debt. "Let's see... fifty bucks a day...  Figure little wifey-poo can work off what she owes me in... a little over a month."

 

"Your first night with her, huh?" It’s a seemingly innocent comment.

 

Jane's taking another swig but doesn't stop drinking as she confirms with a hum, "Mm-hm."

 

Barry's eyebrows do a little dance as their eyes meet and he grins mischievously, "Uh-huh!"  He ducks to the side as a beer mat goes whizzing by his ear.

 

"Come on!" She's blushing and she knows it, she might as well be honest. "I'm not gonna tell you she doesn't have a great body. But she's too rich for my blood!"

 

"Chocolate cake's a bit rich too," he supplies, "but I'd like to eat one once in a while."

 

The white of his teeth contrasted against the dark of his skin always seems to make his smile somehow bigger, unavoidably contagious, and she cracks. "Not my style. Course, eating a whole cake isn't, either. But I'm gonna have some fun with her!"

 

His curiosity is off the charts. "What are you gonna do?"

 

She had given him only brief details over the phone about the whole situation and he had helped her boys with their homecoming preparations. He didn’t object or ask questions. Grateful for his trust in her, she decides it’s time she filled him in. Not to mention she might possibly need further help and he is always her partner in crime.

 

But first, she wants to get another round. "What are you drinkin'?"

 

oOo

 

Jane stumbles into the bedroom, tripping in the darkness, stripping her clothes and making enough of a din to wake her temporary spouse. 

 

"Wait!" Maura cries, bolting upright and pushing the brunette away as she tries to climb into bed. 

 

Jane stands, swaying only slightly in the dim light that filters in from the lounge where the door is ajar. "What?" she asks playfully, "You jumped my bones the first night we met!"

 

Scrunching the comforter in both hands and pulling it up to cover her chest, Maura gasps, "We did it on the first date?"

 

Jane's laugh is downright filthy, "Well, I wouldn't call it a date, really. We just did it right there in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven."

 

"I'm a slut," Maura whispers to herself, lips curled up in disgust.  

 

"Huh?"

 

The blonde shakes her head, her voice still shaky and quiet, "Nothing."

 

It might be late and she might be very tired, but Jane has had fewer beers than she makes out and her inner child is still very much awake. She decides now is a good time for a little more torture. "Oh! Hey, I'm a bit drunk tonight, baby, so, you know, it might take me a while to get there."

 

"Oh!" Maura pulls the comforter up even higher when Jane tries to climb into bed again. 

 

"What?" she stops, shoulders slumping in disappointment. "No boom-boom? Well, hey, I understand. You probably just wanna go right to sleep and skip the fun stuff, huh?"

 

Maura's sigh of relief is so big the force of her exhale flicks a few strands of Jane's hair into the brunette's face. "Yes."

 

"Okay."

 

The blonde lies back down, rolling away onto her side and taking the comforter with her. "Thank you. No boom-boom." She closes her eyes and tries to imagine she is anywhere else but here. 

 

"Baby," Jane prods, jabbing a finger at the woman's shoulder blade. 

 

The pet name twists in her gut. She tries to ignore the irritating plumber but the prodding doesn't cease. "Hm?"

 

"The couch."

 

The poking only stops when she opens her eyes and sits up again. "What?" she barks.

 

Pulling the woman from the bed, Jane guides Maura by the shoulders, out of the room and towards the couch.

 

Maura spins slowly once released, half awake and very confused.

 

In the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame in just a black sports bra and boy shorts, Jane Rizzoli looks fit and lean and very pleased with herself. She watches as Maura moves several piles of crap from the couch in order to sit down. "You see, honey, you've got a bad back because the bed's too soft for you. That's why you always sleep on the living-room couch."

 

Not a second later the door is closed and Maura is resigned to sleeping in the lounge, burying herself in a blanket. "I'm a short... fat... slut," she mumbles, unprepared for the shock of Jo Friday jumping up to lie on her. She yelps and swats half heartedly at the animal. "Get off me!"

 

oOo

 

Rain drips from the ceiling as a thunderstorm booms outside. It is dark, the middle of the night still, but Maura’s eyes are open. Wet drops increase in frequency and size and she blinks repeatedly as they start hitting her in the face as well as her body as they have for the past hour. Pulling on the blanket, she disturbs Jo Friday who jumps down onto the floor and disappears through the doggy door out back.

 

She thinks about changing ends, but her feet are just as damp, and instead she throws off the blanket and trudges into the kitchen.

 

When she returns, it is with a metal cooking pot. Wearily laying back down and covering herself once more, she rests the pot on her chest, catching the worst of the leak and enabling, she hopes, at least a tiny amount of sleep until the storm subsides.

An angry groan reverberates around the room as the heavy drops leaking in the corner seem to shift, finding the keys of a dusty old piano. The awful, incessant tune they play feels like the soundtrack to her life.

 

Ignoring the tinkling ivories, Maura’s intention to sleep is once again interrupted by Jo Friday. She yelps and screams as the dog’s sopping fur and muddy paws penetrate the blanket and her nightgown.

 

It’s another tedious, chilly hour before she finally nods off.

 

oOo

 

She’s in an art gallery. All white walls and white floor and… it’s blinding.

 

It’s her mother’s exhibition opening. She sips from a champagne flute as her husband mingles with strangers a short distance away.

 

Many well-dressed, faceless people surround her. They dance, they laugh, they talk. But they do not talk to her.

 

Another full champagne flute keeps her company as a man with a tray passes by.

 

A piano plays in the corner. A soulful tune sweeps the room, drawn out by the fingers of a stunningly beautiful, raven-haired musician.

 

The woman wears an all black tuxedo. And somehow the arousing music remains even as she stands and approaches.

 

An explosion high above draws gasps and whoops and applause. Ticker tape rains down, catching her eyelashes, brushing her cheeks, but her hazel gaze never wavers.

 

Towering heels seem silent as they stalk forward. Her ears register only the pounding of her heart as strong hands finally arrive and take hold.

 

Her favorite gold cocktail dress shimmers and shines, feels like silk, soft like the pianist’s bed sheets might as it moves against her skin, heated beneath scarred palms.

 

They dance, slow, barely moving. It is a sensual embrace.

 

She grips strong shoulders as a prominent chin rest its weight on one of hers. Arms tighten around her waist.

 

The ticker tape continues to rain, heavier still, covering her face as her eyes search upward for its source and she daintily spits the flecks that float to her mouth.

 

She doesn’t feel like herself. Doesn’t want to be here but doesn’t want to miss _this_. Simultaneously the most discomfort she has ever felt mixed with… safety?

 

Something about the woman makes the loneliness fade. She shakes her head as strong hands vanish.

 

Colored flecks continue to fall. She spits and blinks again and again…

 

"Jo Friday! Up, up, up, up, up! Come on!"

 

Jane’s long frame is looming over her when Maura’s eyes shoot open. The brunette is flicking wet fingers into her face, dipping them into the freezing cold water of the very full pot that still lies on her chest before repeating the motion.

 

"Help! Help!" she whines, her head rolling side to side as she squeezes her eyes closed again. It wasn’t a dream, it can’t be because this is a living nightmare.

 

"Time to get up,” Jane orders. “Gotta fix the kids' lunches or they'll miss the bus for school."

 

Trying to hide beneath the blanket, Maura groans, "I don't care if they don't go to school."

 

"Okay,” Jane replies easily, standing up straight. “They'll just be with you all day."

 

Her words are akin to being shocked, and Maura leaps from the couch, finding a reserve of energy she didn’t think existed.

 

Ten minutes later, she’s frantically trying to make sandwiches at the kitchen counter.

 

"Bye, Mom!" Charlie yells as she splatters peanut butter onto slices of white bread.

 

Jane leans over her shoulder, checking on progress. "Whoa, whoa, the bus is here! Let's go!"

 

"Hurry up, Mom!" Andy begs.

 

She’s doing the best she can but it’s bad, very bad. There’s more white marshmallow fluff on the counter and up her arm than there is on the bread. It keeps tearing under the strain but she just shoves the knife back into the jar and tries to glue it together with even more filling. By the time she gets them all done and into paper bags she has the mixture all over her fingers.

 

"Roy. Roy!" she calls.

 

"My name is Travis,” grunts the eldest boy. “Travis."

 

"Travisss!" she mocks, dragging it out to make a point. Their sarcasm and bad habits are rubbing off on her. She’s not sure she dislikes it entirely.

 

"Come on, Johnny," Jane chides, hurrying the smallest boy, before turning to yell at the school bus parked out front. "Stop honking!"

 

"Twin! Oh, twin!" calls Maura, singing it like she thinks a regularly saccharine soccer mom might.

 

"She means you," says Andy, smirking and digging an elbow into Charlie’s ribs.

 

"Have a good day at school," she fakes, passing out paper bags as quickly as she can.

 

Jane does a quick headcount, making sure they haven’t lost anyone during the melee. "You ready? You ready? Come on, come on!"

 

The boys exit the front door in chorus, "Bye, Mom."

 

Leaning over her shoulder once more, Jane rubs her palms up and down Maura’s biceps. "You're doin' a great job. I'm off to work. Somebody's gotta keep this family in the lap of luxury.” The brunette starts to leave but just as she reaches the front door she turns and takes out a hand written note from the pocket of her coveralls. “I figured you'd forget, so I made it for you myself."

 

"What?" Maura blinks as she takes the note.

 

"Your list of daily chores,” Jane grins. “See ya tonight."

 

She can’t help but stare, there are a hundred things written down here, very messily she might add, she can’t possibly… But as she points a dirty finger at the paper and lifts her eyes from Jane’s scrawl the door is already slamming shut. "Jane?"

 

Her sigh is one of resignation and while she stands, resting back against the counter, looking around the empty room, she absently licks peanut butter and fluff from her fingers. Deciding to start the clean up before the day gets any later, she pushes off, but not before looking at her clean fingers and tipping her head to the side thoughtfully. _That’s not half bad._

 

oOo

 

Jane skips to her truck, eyeing herself in the driver’s side mirror and smoothing out dark eyebrows as she whistles. The sun is shining and she feels like today will be a good day. She jumps in behind the wheel and sings as she starts the engine.

 

" _Zippety doo dah! Zippety yay! My oh my, got a wonderful slave.”_ The truck pulls quickly away. _“_ And I... am a genius!"


	7. Chapter 7

Maura's first stop is the bathroom. She needs to clean herself up, at least change out of her nightgown, before she starts on the list.

 

Regarding her tired and drawn face in the mirror she slumps, hands finding the edges of the sink to hold her up as her head falls, eyes closed. 

 

She breathes deeply for a few moments, meditating, silently self-coaching. When she's ready to seize the day, or at least attempt it, her eyes open. In an instant, the calm that had just started to flow through her limbs is wrenched away and she screams. 

 

After an uncontrollable jump backwards, she realizes it's not such a horrific sight after all, just the damn turtle crawling around in the sink.  

 

With a hand pressed to her chest, as if she might reach in and manually still her own rapidly thumping heart, she scrutinizes the creature. Something niggles at the back of her mind but she can't pinpoint what it is. Regardless, she gives up on the notion of even washing her face this morning. Nowhere on the list does it say 'relocate Rizzoli pets' and she's not about to pick it up voluntarily. 

 

Looking back at her sad reflection in the mirror, she bemoans out loud, "You're living in a nightmare... and it starts at the crack of dawn." She lets out a long, noisy yawn as Jo Friday jumps at her legs. "Down! Down!" she shouts, shooing the pup out of the room and slamming the door so she can at least pee in peace.

 

oOo

 

Maura borrows one of Jane’s comfiest and most well-worn white t-shirts; it feels better on her body than any of the grotesquely misshapen dresses of her past. She pairs it with some worn sneakers and torn boyfriend jeans, rolling the legs up past her ankles. The ensemble enables her to move around freely as she sets about the dirty work of cleaning house.

 

And clean she does, from top to bottom, though in her own unconventional first-time way.

 

What she considers to be ‘trash’, a broadly sweeping generalization, is picked off the floor using a large garden shovel. If Jane or the boys lose something of importance it’s too bad, she thinks, as it is dropped without hesitation into a garbage can. They might think twice about leaving their crap all over the floor. This thought produces a tiny smile. 

 

Point one - ‘put out trash’ - Check.

 

A dining table full of dishes with their half-eaten breakfast foods, messy spillage and used cutlery is swept up using the tablecloth and dumped as one into the sink. The walls and surfaces don’t stand a chance when she decides the dinky faucet is inadequate and drags the garden hose in through the kitchen window to finish the job, marveling at the water pressure even as it splashes her torso.

 

Point two - ‘do the dishes’. The word 'do' is very vague, she concludes, and certainly would encompass many things, including 'rinsed with cold water' - Check.

 

She vacuums… everything. Work surfaces say goodbye to their darkened corners full of stale crumbs. Ceilings and fans and drapes with holes say farewell to their dusty cobwebs and insect colonies. The grit and gravel of the boys’ outdoor play that sits stubbornly around the bathtub drain is no more. Crayons on the couch, a lone sock underneath the sideboard, a banana skin on the coffee table… if it’s not nailed down it gets sucked up. She can’t help another tiny, slightly evil smile.

 

Point three - ‘vacuum’ - Check!

 

The dirty laundry is shipped out to the garden shed basket after mountainous basket. She washes load by tiny load in the ancient machine, then dries and folds every garment by hand. Every half cycle she yelps with fright as the machine starts to spin and does its own clattering dance away from the wall. She doesn’t get used to it, startling the same way each time. Fifteen minutes of every hour is spent holding the jiggling metal contraption in place with all her might as Jo Friday barks incessantly at the commotion.

 

Her entire body is humming, vibrating at approximately 1200 rpm by the time the final cycle is complete. Her head is buzzing and her vision is a little fuzzy around the edges. It may still be relatively early in the day but now would be a good time for a very strong drink.  A bloody mary perhaps.

 

But there’s no alcohol anywhere in the house. She knows because she already checked.

 

She sews by hand, first fixing buttons and mending holes. Soon after she starts there's the dawning realization that she is inexplicably adept with a needle and thread, fast and neat. It is... intriguing and confusing but several ideas begin to manifest.

 

Point four - ‘laundry’ - Check. She adds a few points of her own to the list for later.

 

Jo Friday was annoyingly, dangerously underfoot during every chore she tried to accomplish. The mutt barely avoided tripping her at the top of the stairs, later almost knocked her into the tub, before finally succeeding in sending her flying across the wet kitchen floor.

 

But, now that Maura has finally located the doggy shampoo, she can’t get within fifty feet of the mutt. Nothing she tries, no amount of food, trickery, or lassoing with a leash works well enough for her to lay hands on the pesky animal. The irony that the dog hasn’t left her alone, day or night, since she got here is not lost on her and she laughs maniacally in between growls of ‘come here’ and ‘sit, stay’ as she chases it in circles around the yard.

 

Point five - ‘wash the dog’ - Easier said than done. One that will remain, Maura decides, unapologetically unchecked.

 

Even the hose doesn’t help; it just sends the dog running even further away as she tries to drown it from a distance. It does, however, come in handy for a multitude of other things like spray cleaning the windows, watering the handful of non-invasive flowering plants, and rinsing off the boys’ bicycles. By the time she's done, everything on the exterior, as well as some of the interior, is completely saturated. 

 

She buys groceries with the little money Jane left on the dining table and prepares dinner. Having sourced the chicken herself this time makes it vastly more appealing. She splits it down the middle, cracks the chest, and removes the wings and legs. Dissecting the carcass, pulling away the thighs and breasts as she goes, all the while wielding the only sharp knife she can find is oddly satisfying. Therapeutic almost. She thinks she could probably enjoy sewing the disassembled form back together again, but the pieces go in the crockpot as planned with a little water and some random spices. It's the best she can do and at least she doesn't have to babysit the pot or get burned for her trouble.

 

She changes the bed sheets throughout. Jane's bed isn't too bad, though it provokes some resentment when Maura considers her own spot on the couch, and she curses at her first, and then second attempt to properly fit the clean sheets and duvet cover. She doesn’t attempt to turn the mattress, given its weight and the fact that she thinks no one will really care. She certainly doesn't. 

 

When she does attempt to flip the boys' much smaller mattresses in the attic room, she wishes there were some things she could un-see.

 

Under Travis's bed is a treasure trove of smutty magazines and she drops the mattress in disgust before changing the sheets. 

 

Johnny's bed, thankfully, is hiding only a stash of comic books, though she does worry about the level of violence depicted. Dr. Death does not appear to be age appropriate at first glance and so she spends a good five minutes just standing in the middle of the room, flicking through multicolored cartoon adventures.

 

Lifting Andy's mattress is akin to lifting a manhole cover. Everything stinks and she tries not to gag as she fills the laundry basket again. Dragging dirty underwear and smelly socks from their hiding place, she wonders if Jane wrote the list in this specific order deliberately. It doesn't seem right that she would spend time doing laundry before checking for additions like those found here. Does Jane expect her to reorder the list to her preference? To use logic and efficiency? She has no clue. How would she? But she is storing vast amounts of information for next time.

 

Point four - 'laundry' - Unchecked. 

 

Surprisingly, Charlie's bed is much less disturbing. His little doodles occupy every surface, underneath the bed and around it. In fact, they're not the mindless doodles that she'd expected, not the stick figures, yellow sun and square house that might adorn most parents’ refrigerators. He has scruffily sketched psychedelic blueprints of sorts for a whole host of inventions. Some are outrageous, and she laughs out loud covering her mouth, feeling silly even though no one is around to see. But most are practical, unconventional, and she's... impressed. 

 

Mowing the lawn goes about as well as she expects. She thinks she'll smell like gasoline for a week after spending ten minutes trying to get the damn thing running, but then she's literally off... chasing the machine through the yard as it chugs away from her. She considers, if only for a moment, not bothering to catch the sucker, wondering how much fuel the little tank might contain and whether or not, if she leaves it on the loose, she might find the nightly news reporting 'rogue lawnmower seen crossing border into New Hampshire'. Instead she catches it just as it’s shredding the only patch of decent border plants on the plot. It's a disaster. 

 

By the time it comes to point twelve - 'chop wood' - she's positively frazzled. Dirty, frustrated, and tired to the bone. The choice between axe and chainsaw comes easily, when she finds both in the shed, and she thinks the latter might feel somewhat satisfying given the day she's had.

 

It seems like part of the yard out back where the logs are located is being used to grow vegetables, though goodness knows why since Jane and her boys clearly have an aversion to foods not containing a high percentage of saturated fats. She'd thought them weeds, just like the rest of the yard, since the plants appear so unkempt and unhealthy. 

 

She thinks the task will be easily and quickly completed as she fires up the chainsaw. It only takes three pulls, unlike the lawnmower, but she is vastly unprepared for the power she now wields. Her hands shake, frantically trying to hold on as the sharp, spinning blade snatches at the air, pulling her along. The scarecrow by the vegetable patch is the first accidental victim, a single horizontal swipe performing an almost perfect decapitation, as the tool lifts and jumps, taking her arms and shoulders with it.

 

When she finally hits and becomes lodged in a nearby tree it's a stroke of luck. It is not clear how to switch off the infernal death trap and short of dropping it and running away she doesn't know what else to do. At least while it's chewing bark and sending small tree limbs to the ground it's not chewing any limbs of hers. An upper body workout wasn't on the list but she’s getting one anyway. Maybe it's a benefit, she muses, that she might be able to retain her figure with the manual labor of housework if everything Jane has said about her yo-yo weight issues is true. In any event, the chainsaw sputters and dies suddenly bringing her fraught, near death experience to an end.

 

Her entire body is on vibrate once more as she returns to the house on wobbly legs. Sweeping a forearm across her sweaty brow is all she can manage before climbing in through the back door and collapsing into an armchair. 

 

oOo 

  

"Dinner! Dinner!" The smaller boys clamor, all talking at once, climbing all over the couch and one of the armchairs.  

  

Maura occupies the other armchair and Travis is throwing grapes across the room, trying to land them in her wide open mouth as she drools on herself. "She needs food." 

 

Andy takes his turn, grabbing a handful and shooting a few. They miss their target, some more shy than others, bouncing off her cheeks and forehead. "This is fun," he giggles.

  

They don't stop their little game even as Jane stomps in through the front door. "Hey, guys. What's goin' on?" 

  

Charlie is the first to answer, innocence radiating from his sparkling eyes, "Nothing. We're okay." 

  

"We're fine," Travis adds, eyes still on the blonde, chubby fingers still throwing fruit. "How about you?" 

  

"Oh, no, no, no," Jane chides, hurriedly taking off her jacket and coming to kneel in front of Maura. Everything is clearly not fine. "What's wrong with her?" 

  

"She's been like that for an hour now." Jane looks over her shoulder to find Charlie checking his watch, suggesting it's not an exaggeration.  

  

"She's getting better, though," Andy smiles but doesn't elaborate. 

 

"Better?" What could possibly be worse than unconscious? 

  

"Yeah, she's not going 'Ba-ba-ba... Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba...'" Andy does a very convincing demonstration of talking and twitching in his sleep. 

 

It reminds Jane to sign him up for acting classes at summer school, if she can ever afford to send him.  "Why did she do that?" 

  

"She destroyed the scarecrow," informs Travis, even though it doesn't answer her question. His young face is aghast, eyes wide and nostrils flared, "She took the sucker's head off with a chainsaw!" 

  

"I like it when she goes 'Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba,'" Johnny contributes in his Pee Wee style.  

  

Not realizing she had been stroking Maura's knees this whole time, Jane turns back to the blonde when the woman murmurs softly. "Hey! Baby doll! What's for dinner?" 

  

"Bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu ba-ba-ha-ha..." she mumbles, sending all four kids into fits of laughter. 

  

It's almost a shame how disheveled Maura appears but Jane's not gonna let the twinge of sympathy she feels derail the debt payment. The blonde looks good in her clothes, she notices, and the dirt smudge on her cheek is adora- Shaking her head rids it of the thought before it is fully formed. "Okay! I'll take it from here." She stands and waves them off. "Go on, get upstairs!" 

  

Travis comes to stand beside her, "Will you trade her in for a new one?" 

  

"Nah, she'll be all right." Jane makes easy work of lifting Maura's petite body from the chair, one arm around her back and another under her knees. "Come on, guys! Move it!" 

  

Carrying the blonde out into the backyard, she sets her down on the bench and grabs the hose. Just one short, ice cold burst to the face is all it takes to wake her fully, sputtering and shrieking. 

 

Maura wipes drenched bangs out of her eyes as Jane asks, "Feel better?" 

  

"I don't belong here," she complains tearily. "I feel it. Don't you think I feel it? I can't do any of these vile things and I wouldn't want to! My life is like death! My children are the spawn of hell and you're the devil." She pulls on the front of her shirt, grabbing it at neck and pulling it up to cover her face. "Oh, God..." 

  

When the woman sniffles, Jane squats down, planting a hand on her knee once more. "But, baby, we  _like_  you."

  

oOo 

  

Dinner, such as it is, ends up being later than usual and the kids are still up, but then the excitement of what happened earlier in the afternoon still hasn't totally worn off.

 

"She's okay. She's doin' the dishes," says Travis, coming into the lounge from the kitchen.  "No more 'ba-ba-ba-ba-ba,'" he snickers.  

  

"Good. All right." It is a genuine relief. She might have brought this woman into her home under false pretences but Jane doesn't need her to have a mental breakdown, too.  

  

She's on the couch watching SportsCenter, a twin on either side and the youngest in her lap. Charlie stops his doodling just long enough to ask a question. "Ma?" 

  

"Yeah?" 

  

"Will she figure out we're tricking her?" 

  

"Not if we don't blow it," she whispers conspiratorially, smiling big and getting a big one in return.  

  

Their quiet is disturbed when Maura stalks in, clearly on a mission. Rooting through drawers and scouring shelves, she leaves a ransacked room in her wake. When she relocates to the bedroom to do the same thing, pulling boxes from underneath the bed and rifling through the wardrobe, Jane goes to investigate. 

 

Still in her Rizzoli & Sons coveralls, the top half tied around her waist revealing her standard white vest, she leans up against the doorframe, "What are you doin'?" 

  

"Looking for memorabilia," Maura replies.  

  

"Memora-what?" 

  

"Scrapbooks," she spits, all venomous impatience and raw, buzzing energy. "Photographs. Something that will spark some wisp of a memory. Do we or do we not possess these things?" 

  

"Uh, well..." Jane scratches her forehead.  

  

The blonde throws her hands up, "Do you mean to tell me there is no photographic evidence of our life together... anywhere in existence?" 

  

Thinking on her feet is becoming easier each time and Jane follows Maura as she exits past her and heads for the bathroom. "Well, I don't know where they'd be because, uh..." She's leaning into the bathroom doorframe now, a hand rubbing at the back of her neck under her ponytail as she invents details. "You know, we lost a lot of stuff in the move. And it's possible that, uh... we lost -" 

  

The blonde gasps, pupils blown wide.

 

"What?" 

 

"You! You and the bathroom," she points, finger wagging as her eyes narrow.  

  

"That's right," Jane nods slowly. "This is me... and I'm standing outside the bathroom." 

  

Maura inhales sharply, "Something's familiar." 

  

Panicking, Jane's mouth takes the path of least - or in Maura's case,  _most_  - resistance. "You got it," she says, shucking her thumb and throwing the blonde a sultry wink. "We used to do it in the shower." 

  

"Oh, stop with the sex stories!" the blonde tuts.  

  

Taking a more hands on approach, Jane grasps her shoulders and turns Maura, pushing her into the room. "You're grumpy because you've been busy. I want you to stop everything, go on in here, take a bath..." 

 

The blonde tries to object but Jane yells down her ear before she gets a chance. 

 

"Hey, guys! Get the turtle out of the bathtub!” 

  

“Tortoise,” Maura says quietly.  

 

Jane's head snaps around. “What?” 

  

“You mean pardon,” she adds more firmly.  

  

Jane blinks. “Pardon?” 

  

“That,” Maura points, taking a weary breath, “is a young African Spurred Tortoise. Geochelone Sulcata.  _Not_  a turtle. It’s liable to grow up to three feet long if given the correct diet and may live for one hundred years plus. It  _certainly_  should not be in the tub…  _or_  the sink... or anywhere else. Unless your children are trying to drown the poor creature.”

  

“Wha -?” Jane shakes her head. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. “How do you know all that?” 

  

Maura waves her off tiredly. It’s not the first time a torrent of information has poured out of her, though some recollection of its origin might help minimize the headache it generates. “I have no idea.” 

  

Jane softens with sympathy again.  _Dammit_. The woman does look genuinely exhausted. And so sad. A half-ton of guilt materializes in Jane’s belly and she suddenly wants to wrap the blonde in a hug. But she can’t, so she scoops up the creature and makes a promise she can’t keep, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I'll look for the pictures first thing in the morning, okay?” 

  

"All right," Maura acquiesces, already busying herself with getting the room ready for a long soak.  

  

Jane can't help but note the painful looking hunch in Maura's back and the slowness of her movements as the woman bends to turn on the faucets. "Good night, honey," she says softly as she closes the bathroom door and immediately slumps down. This is getting very complicated, she thinks, in more ways than one.  


	8. Chapter 8

In the dead of night, a woman bangs her fist incessantly on her friend’s front door. It's an emergency, a plea for rescue. She'd have called 911 if she thought it would do her any good.  

  

"Somebody better be dead!" booms a familiar voice from inside the house.  

   

As latches are removed and locks are turned, Jane begs, pushing her face into the opening as soon as the door creaks open. "Barry! Barry, I need a huge favor."  

   

A female voice floats out into the night from inside the house, "Who you talkin' to?"  

   

"Nobody," he snaps over his shoulder.  

   

"Who's that?" the woman asks again, unperturbed by his grumpiness.  

   

"No one."  

  

He's very whiny and Jane doesn't blame him. She'd be pissed too if someone knocked her up at this time of night.  The brunette leans around him, greeting Barry's girlfriend with a nod and an upward flick of her eyebrows.  

  

"Hey, is that Jane? Hi, Jane. Come on in."  

   

When the brunette chuckles Barry swats at her on the doorstep. "Go back to bed, Neda."  

  

But the woman is clearly not in a good mood either and Jane feels a twinge of guilt at ruining her friend's sleepover. "If you’re gonna treat me like that, I'm goin' home."  

   

He throws his hands up, "Come on, Neda, don't be like that!"  

   

Jane interrupts their bickering by shoving a brown envelope into the man's t-shirt covered midriff. "I need your computer geek know how. You gotta make me a fake bride."  

   

"Come on, Jane. I'm busy!"

   

"Not anymore," she laughs with a wiggle of an eyebrow, before heading back towards her truck. "Neda said she’s goin' home."  

   

"Okay," he yells, his voice getting louder as it follows her out into the night. "But if we get caught, I’ll drive you to the damn police station myself!"  

   

oOo

   

Jane owes Barry several beers, maybe more considering the stellar photoshop work he's done on the handful of old snaps she gave him. They're not perfect, she could pick out several flaws at first glance, but only because she is familiar with the originals. It's a wonder he managed it at all considering he only had one post-rescue picture of Maura to work with.   

  

The blonde sweeps a fingertip over the paper, following the lace trim on a frilly white dress, a deep frown covering her brow. "It's my wedding day. Why do I look so annoyed?"  

   

Humor comes as easily as the lies, since the whole situation is ridiculous. "Oh, yeah," Jane chuckles. "Your dad showed up shit-faced. He threw potato salad all over my ma. We had to throw him out!"  

   

Maura flicks through several other photos in the stack as she sits cross-legged on Jane’s bed. "Why do I always have this depressed look on my face?"  

   

The picture taken at the hospital had been the one splashed all over the news. Maura looked far from her best, in a hospital gown with birds nest hair, but Jane thought it worked. Having Barry forgo a Google search for a photo where Maura might look happy, instead using the only one in existence where she didn't really look like her true self, was a stroke of genius in her mind. Plus she knew her first words were far from a lie.

 

"You were grumpy a lot. You were losing the weight then you gained it back. Thin, fat, thin, fat..."  

   

"Was I  _always_  this miserable? Wasn't I ever happy?"  

   

"Well, sure, honey, lots. You were the happiest little wife and mother around!" The brunette points to a photo of the two of them where the blonde isn't so much fat but seemingly pregnant, "Look at this, before you lost the weight. Can you believe it?  All right," she breathes, taking the photos and holding Maura's hands. "Now, that's it. Are you satisfied?"  

   

The blonde sighs. "Yes. I suppose."  

   

Jane pats her on the knee before climbing off the bed. "Good."  

   

"I suppose I belong here in this... hovel."  

   

The brunette doesn't respond to the comment, can't acknowledge it without the possibility that she'll get angry. As a proud woman and a hard worker she does the best she can for her family. Maura doesn’t know what she’s been through, will never know, but it still stings. "Come on, Jo!" She ushers the dog from where the terrier is curled up on the comforter and leaves the room.   

   

"Well, this is my life," Maura says to herself, glancing over the photos again. "I didn't marry very well, did I?" She doesn't know where this feint sense of superiority comes from, the notion of stations or classes, given that she is told she belongs here. But it lingers, tickling just beneath her skin, making her itch. Today it is particularly unpleasant.  

  

She moves up the bed, scooting under the comforter. Since it'll be a while yet until the kids get home from school she decides to stay in bed, to pull the covers over her head and hide. From the world or from herself she's not so sure.   

   

oOo  

   

Aboard Auras Smile, Garrett Fairfield stands with his arms outstretched, soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the view. It is not, however, the skyline that captivates him.  "God, I love New York. What were your names again?"  

   

"Harmony," giggles a curvy brunette as she takes up a sun lounger. She's wearing more jewelry than she is clothes, each piece of cheap, gold-plated decoration glinting in the sun. 

   

His grin is feral. "Harmony! I love it!" The grin quickly drops off when he hears the cabin phone ring. "If that's my mother-in-law, I'm not here," he shouts over his shoulder, knowing one of the crew will pick it up. He gestures to a second woman, just as scantily clad and pressed up close to Harmony. "You're Kim - Kimberly... right?”  

   

Maura's aide is the one to lift the handset, "Hello, the Fairfield yacht."  

   

" _Hello, Susie. It's Mrs. LaRoche_.  _I'd like to speak to my daughter_."  

   

 _"_ They're not here, ma'am. They've gone shopping," she lies, observing Mr. Fairfield through the cabin window with a sneer. Only with Mrs. Fairfield gone is she starting to see things a little more clearly. 

   

The man has removed his shirt and pushed himself in between the two women. One of them is rubbing his shoulders as the other scoots down his body. "Uh, a little bit lower. Yeah. Yeah, lower. That's good. That's good."  

  

Susie hopes it’s not what it looks like and decides she can't watch anymore. If Garrett wants anything between now and whenever he tires of today's choice in entertainment she'll send one of the boys out on deck. 

 

oOo

 

"I don't wanna do it!" Johnny whines. 

  

"You gotta do it if you wanna be a gruesome ghoul!" assures Travis. He knows playing to his brother's fascination with Dr. Death's sidekick will seal the deal. "It's part of the initiation!"

 

The little boy thinks about the plan for a moment before deciding his is in. "Is this gonna work?" 

  

"My ideas always work," the older boy states confidently. "I'm gifted." 

  

Johnny clamps his hands over his mouth when he snickers loudly, trying not to get caught. "I loved it when you glued Charlie to the toilet seat."

 

oOo

 

"Why does he keep staring at me?" Maura asks, flicking her head in Barry's direction. She's taken up the end seat on the couch nearest Jane's armchair and is rubbing circles into the tight lines of Jane's scarred palm. 

  

Jane's attention, surprisingly, isn't on the Red Sox game on the television as she hums with her eyes closed. "Is he?" 

  

"Yes!" the blonde whispers, halting her soothing motions. "He was staring at me with his mouth open all through dinner." 

  

Jane sits up, leaning her face closer to Maura's ear. "Well, honey, Barry was your high-school boyfriend." She sounds a little hurt as she enquires, "You don't get any of the old feelings back when you look at him, do you?" 

  

Barry finishes off his current bottle of beer, belching for emphasis, and Maura shakes her head firmly, her lips turned down and her nose screwed up. "Nuh uh."

  

The blonde starts up her hand massage again but Jane stops her. "That's good. Thanks a lot." Noting the empty bottle on the coffee table in front of her friend, she prompts, "Uh, sugarlips. I think our guest needs another beer."  

  

"Uh, well, I really shouldn't," Barry pretends, before laughing at his own joke, "but maybe, uh... just one more... six-pack!" 

  

The blonde gets a slap on the butt as she heads for the kitchen. "Atta girl!  Thank you." 

  

She brings back one opened bottle along with the other five in the cardboard carrier and sets them on the table in front of Barry. "That's all the beer." 

  

As she sits, just shy of comfortable, Jane chides, "Whoa, buttercup! It's just about time for dessert!" 

  

"How about some brownies?" Barry asks with a grin. 

  

Standing, her hands worry at her thighs. "I didn't make any.  How about chocolate cream pie instead? I bought one."

 

Two equally big smiles enable her to breathe out and she leaves the room as Jane settles, relaxing back into her chair and closing her eyes.

  

Barry scoots to the edge of his seat, "Hey, I was thinking about it at work, we need a theme for the golf course. And I have several more electronic contraptions completed for you to knock golf balls through." 

  

Jane waves him off, she doesn't want to talk work right now but she does lift her head. "Pass me one of those, would ya?" she points, getting a bottle handed to her without fuss. Turning to find the edge of the sideboard, the brunette positions the lip of the bottle top and gives it a whack. The top falls to the floor and she swigs the resulting foam before asking, "Who's winning? I had my eyes closed."  

  

"The guys with... um..." It was true he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should. There is just something about Maura that draws one's gaze. But more than that, he’s wondering what the hell has happened between them if Jane is letting her touch her scars. Before he has time to check the score for himself, they are interrupted by Maura wailing in the kitchen. 

  

"GREAT! Who did this?! TRAVIS!"

  

"Hey, honey, what happened?” Jane doesn't look around, just shouts out to the side, eyes now on the television as Barry get an eyeful of the situation. 

  

"Oooh!" he laughs, before ducking as Maura tries to vaporize him with a scowl. 

  

 _"This_  happened." Her spittle flies across the room as she rages about the small dessert plate that is superglued to each of her hands.

  

Suddenly the lounge is buzzing with small bodies, all loudly claiming their innocence and howling. Jane jumps up from the chair, trying feebly to lay hands on one or all of the boys at once. "You guys are beggin' for it!" 

  

Coming to stand in her face, Maura stomps, "Oh, stop blustering! You won't punish them!" 

  

Jane makes the mistake of not taking it seriously. "Ease up there, love chop! Just ease up." 

  

"Ease up?!" she yells, backing Jane up a step with each point she makes. "Ease up? Since I walked through that door, I have cooked, cleaned, scrubbed, chopped wood…” Okay, so she hasn’t technically chopped wood so much as accidently almost felled a tree, but still… “I've waited on you, your dog, your kids and your friend in the hopes that I would remember some shred of my life but now it is entirely clear to me why I've chosen to block it out!" 

  

The way she is waving her plated hands around would be hilarious to Jane if it weren't for the biting sting of truth she feels at Maura's words. "Now, none of this ever -"

  

"Bothered me before?!"

 

Jane gawks at how well Maura anticipates her words. She’s learning fast. It’s very unsettling.

 

Steam is practically rising from the blonde as she jabs a plate at Jane's chest. "Well, it bothers me now."

  

"Is that so?" Jane stands her ground, hands on her cocked hips, just waiting for the next volley.

 

The brunette is saved from further argument when her youngest takes it upon himself to lower the maturity level even further. He squirts chocolate sauce from a bottle, covering Maura's chest in sticky goop. For a few seconds everyone freezes.

 

"Hey, hey, Johnny! Come on, guys!" Jane snatches the bottle and hauls the boy away, patting his butt for good measure as the blonde disappears. "No more jokes on Mom today, huh?" 

  

"You really got her where you want her, huh" Barry laughs. He might have agreed with Korsak when this charade first began that it was a bad idea, but he wouldn't miss this show for love nor money. 

  

"I got everything under control, don't worry," Jane pouts. Losing face in front of her best friend is not how tonight was supposed to go. She needs a drink and throws back some beer from her open bottle. "Ugh, this is warm. Give me another one, Barry." 

  

Dutifully, the man hands one over. "Now I only got three left," he gripes.

  

"Well," Jane chuckles with a wide smile, before using the sideboard to open the bottle top again. "We're just gonna have to send out the old ball and chain to buy some more." She leans forward and they meet in the middle over the coffee table, clinking in toast to Jane's fortune. 

 

They're still grinning like idiots at each other when dessert is suddenly thrust in between them, mere inches from their faces.

 

"Your chocolate cream pie," Maura purrs dangerously. 

 

Both lean back slowly, cautious of where that pie and its lashings of whipped cream might end up before Jane gingerly takes the foil tray and the blonde retreats into the kitchen. "Thanks, honey. I guess it's kinda tough to serve with your hands stuck to plates."

 

The boys rush in, leaping onto the couch as Jane and Barry huddle with them around the coffee table. It's a free for all, the likes of which Maura imagines she might see if they kept pigs in the yard instead of tomatoes and dandelions. 

  

It's only at the last second, as they make short work of the dessert with fingers and thumbs that she makes her presence known.

 

"Oh, sugarlips!" she sings.

  

"Yeah?" Jane looks up to find her wife holding the garden hose. It looks a little awkward, since she only has use of her thumbs with the plates still stuck to her, but the threat is real.  "Wait a minute!" the brunette pleads with her hands up in surrender, but it's no use. They all get sprayed, doused head to toe in freezing cold water as Maura hoots and cackles.

  

Her revenge is sweet. "Fire, fire, fire!” she celebrates, “Yeah!" Five Rizzolis and a Frost cower but she shows no mercy. It's the most fun she's had since... well, as long as she can remember. 

  

Finally, the blonde relents and Jane yells, "Okay, guys, go get her!"  

  

Maura squeals as she makes a rapid retreat out the back door, four boisterous boys following closely behind. She barely makes out Barry shouting from inside, "Hey, thanks for a lovely dinner!" before she takes cover behind the nearest tree. 

 

Andy is the last one out the door, "Wait for me!"

 

"She went this way, guys!" Travis points to the tree but she's already moved further into the brush, surveilling them as they play their impromptu game of hide and seek. 

 

Shrieking with excitement, Johnny shouts, "Gruesome ghouls, attack!" 

  

"What should I do, Travis?" asks Charlie, looking to his older brother as if he were the Sergeant of their platoon. 

  

"Go home!" he replies in jest, teasing his sibling and therefore taking his eye off the ball. 

 

Maura has circled back around and attacks from the rear, jumping out to grab Johnny under his arms. "I got you!" 

  

She lifts him and they fall down, rolling in the bushes until he gains the upper hand. Once on top of her, he's quick to request backup. "Tickle her!" 

  

The boys pounce, a jumble of limbs, all giggling and squealing together as someone exclaims, "She's ticklish!" 

  

They've found the chink in her not inconsiderable armor and they revel in it, enjoying the plaintive albeit laughing cries of the woman beneath them. "Ow, that hurts!” she giggles, over and over again. “Ow! Leave me alone!"

 

She has tears rolling down her face. And she loves it.


	9. Chapter 9

"All right, time to get up. Go to the bathroom and do what you normally do." Maura is standing in the middle of the boys’ room. It doesn’t take a pot of water and a piano to get her up in the morning any more and she thinks she's starting to get used to this life. 

 

"You gonna squirt us with the hose again?" asks Andy, propping himself up on his elbows.

 

He sighs when she shrugs and says, "That's up to you." Whether in relief or disappointment she's not certain. But either way, she doesn't have the energy today to be playing or scolding. The sooner they get ready and off for school the better. 

 

Charlie jumps out of bed first, rushing straight downstairs in his pajamas. "I gotta feed the turtle."

 

Her brain tells her to correct him but her mouth doesn't move. She's tired down to her bones, not helped by restless nights on the couch with the dog, and only has the wherewithal to wave an arm in the smallest boy's direction before she trudges back downstairs. "Johnny, come on. Time to get up!"

 

"I don't want to! The teacher's a big fat tub!"

 

It's all Maura can do not to stick out her tongue and blow a wet raspberry. She wants to tell them exactly what she thinks of their schoolboy problems, but decides it would be a very immature and inappropriate thing for a sensible and serious parent to do.

 

The temptation is still very much there all through breakfast though, and even as the boys are climbing the steps of the school bus. One day she might do it, she thinks. To hell with propriety. 

 

oOo

 

"Rizzoli boys, come up here!" commands Mrs. Burbridge from behind the desk at the front of the class. She holds up a sheaf of student exam papers. "Miss Pitcannon tells me you don't want to take these tests."

 

Johnny has his little arms tucked inside the sleeves of his t-shirt, scratching at them and his lower back under his clothes. "I'm itchin' and I wanna go home!"

 

"You may go stand in the corner until you can talk like a little boy!" she points, unimpressed by the repeated use of his Pee Wee voice. "All of you children are new in this school," she says, addressing the three older boys who stand in a row in front of the desk. "These scores will determine your placement in future classes. You must concentrate..." she sighs before barking at one of the twins. "Andy! Stop that!"

 

He's trying so hard not to wriggle about but chubby fingers claw at his skin as he moans, "I'm in real bad shape!"

 

"Nonsense!" the teacher dismisses. "Now, if you concentrate, I'm sure you can control those little bodies." She points at the corner again where the youngest boy stands in timeout. "Johnny, sit!" she orders, pointing now to the first small table at the front of the class. "Is anyone at your home?"

 

Travis is quick to answer, "Yeah. Our mom is."

 

"Your mother isn't out at work?" the woman replies with barely concealed contempt. 

 

The boy just nods, the twins copying him as he adds, "Oh yeah, she is. But mom is at home."

 

Now the shock is accompanied by wide eyes and painted on eyebrows that leap upwards, "She remarried?"

 

"Mm-hmm," Travis murmurs, not sure why that would be so weird. He happens to think his Ma is really great. "We've got another mother now."

 

"Well, good," she snaps, slapping he palms down on the desk. "Then I'm calling  _both_  your parents!"

 

oOo

 

The weary blonde shuffles slowly into the classroom. "Mrs. Burbridge, I'm Maura Rizzoli. What happened?" She sounds dog tired, not just tired but totally... done. With all of it. 

 

Before she'd left the house she'd been able to match the pale blue of the bags under her eyes exactly with the color of the light denim jacket she is wearing. Her appearance is one of many things she finds depressing, despite the form-fitting new clothes she has fashioned for herself and, though this morning she felt like she was getting the hang of things, life just keeps throwing curve balls. 

 

Mrs. Burbridge doesn't stand, just slides her glasses down the end of her nose and peers over them at the blonde. "Well, Mrs. Rizzoli, apparently your children consider themselves above taking the placement tests."

 

Shaking her head, Maura replies, "I'm sorry. Placement tests?" They already have a place at the school so she isn't really following. 

 

"Yes. They are very valuable in measuring intelligence and potential," the teacher sighs, glancing at each boy in turn, judgment seeping from her pores, before landing on Johnny.  "Sit still!" She takes a deep, composing inhale and turns back to Maura.  "Your children are a discipline problem."

 

"I know," Maura concedes sheepishly. "I have had difficulties myself." She looks around at them but focuses on Travis, since he's usually the ringleader in her experience. She tries to make it quiet, but regardless of volume her tone is still accusing, "What did you do now?"

 

"Oh! They decided to play sick!" Mrs. Burbridge waves dismissively, rolling her eyes. "And not very convincingly. Now, I believe their problems exist because of deficient parental guidance. The children are slovenly, incorrigible and being reared by a mother who clearly isn't concerned about their welfare, but is herself just an overgrown child!"

 

Her negative opinion of the boys' upbringing is thankfully interrupted by a teaching assistant entering the room. "Excuse me, Mrs. Burbridge?"

 

"Oh, the test results. Thank you," she replies, standing to meet the other woman at the doorway. With her back to Maura, who is currently distracted by the boys' itchy condition, she doesn't even try to be discreet as she speaks about the blonde behind her back. "I'll look these over as soon as I'm finished with this...  _woman_."

 

She doesn't see Maura switch into protective mommy mode - rolling up the boys' sleeves, checking their chests and cupping their little rosy cheeks lovingly, her own face one of unprecedented sympathy.  "Oh, my God."  All four of them are covered in a horrible red rash and though it's still developing in the older boys, little Johnny has the beginnings of oozing yellow blisters on his arms.

 

She hears Mrs. Burbridge finishing up with her colleague just as righteous indignation gives her the boost of adrenaline she desperately needs.

 

Jane is on her way up the corridor as the teaching assistant leaves the room. She intends to walk right in, find out what the big deal is, but stops dead when she hears Maura's voice. The deal sounds kinda big if she's honest, but not in the way she was expecting before she got here. Maura's tone is harsh, very Mrs. Fairfield, and the brunette presses herself against the wall just outside the door for a spot of eavesdropping.

 

"Mrs. Burbridge, would you come over here for a moment?" The blonde has a hand on her hip, patience quickly waning as the teacher plods across the room. "Has it escaped your attention that these – m- _my_ children have head-to-toe poison oak?!"

 

"Well, no... Yes, but..." she stutters, searching everywhere for an excuse. 

 

"But what?" Maura barks, as she backs the much taller teacher up in her own classroom. "My children are in need of medical assistance! And you can sit here and smugly lecture _me_ on the importance of tests?! Tests which label children's potential - a thing which _cannot_  possibly be measured! Least of all by anally compulsive huns like you!"

 

She imagines beet red is probably not a good look, but she's on a roll and this is turning out to be an effective form of stress relief, so she takes a breath and keeps going as the teacher falls back into her desk chair. "And my wife may be a large child, but that's none of your business. And my children may be rotten, but they're _mine_! They're bright and sensitive and creative and kind. So I have no doubts whatsoever about their intelligence! I do, however, have serious doubts about _yours_!"

 

The teacher doesn't respond, just opens and closes her mouth like a gawping fish, but Maura's not waiting around for any further discussion.

 

Jane's grin is luminous as her heart beats double time. She ducks away from the room and out of sight when she hears mad momma Maura bark her final orders like a general. 

 

"Get in the car, boys. Let's go. MOVE!"

 

They march their little butts one after the other and the blonde catches Andy whispering to Charlie. "She told her off. Ma never did that."

 

Throwing the woman a look so fierce that less experienced teachers might have spontaneously combusted, Maura stalks out of the room, feeling and walking taller than ever before. "Discipline problem? I don’t think so. Good day."

 

oOo

 

Maura has taken the boys upstairs in order to treat their condition in relative comfort. Each boy occupies his own bed, now that they've all been bathed or showered. She has another huge laundry pile to get through but it's a small price to pay for making sure the irritating plant oil isn't on their clothes or bedding where it can continue to cause harm.

 

But she'll deal with that later. Her children are her first concern.

 

Something about her confrontation with Mrs. Burbridge has changed her, rocked her, made her stronger and softer all at the same time. She swears to herself that if her beautiful boys are scarred as a result of their teacher's willful irresponsibility and neglect there will be hell to pay.

 

She wonders if this is the first time they've ever had poison oak, wonders how she dealt with it and if she felt this bad for them. It tears her up a little inside that she doesn't remember. 

 

"I can't stop itching!" cries Andy, overacting in his usual style, trying to rub every limb all at once, hopping across his mattress like a jumping bean. 

 

"Well, what do you expect when you roll around in poison oak?" She sits down on the edge of his bed and passes him a new tube of cream. "I want you to do what the doctor said and put it right on the red parts. Okay?" He nods and she sweeps her gaze around the attic space. "Then later we're going to clean up this room because it's a disgrace."

 

"We like it like a disgrace," Travis snarks, sounding very much like his other mother.

 

Maura lets it go, but raises an eyebrow when Charlie adds, "Ma lets us do whatever we want!"

 

"Yeah, well, it's trickling down the stairway." They can argue all they want; she is determined to instill some discipline. She's following her gut mostly, which feels silly, she'd much rather a parenting textbook to tell her what to do and what not to do. But she doesn't have that luxury, and worse she fears this isn't particularly an exact science, and so she wings it, doing what feels right.

 

Looking around to see how the youngest boy is getting on, she finds him rubbing cream on his face with both hands. She's sat on the edge of his bed in a flash, gently taking his wrists and pulling white caked hands away. "Johnny, don't do that. Don't get that near your eyes, sweetheart." He's surprisingly patient as she wipes his hands clean on his used bath towel. Picking up the tube, she follows the printed instruction with her index finger. "Look, I want you to read this. See what it says? ' _Don't get near your eyes._ ' Read on."

 

He takes the tube from her and stares at it for several seconds. It's a total surprise when he launches it across the room angrily and promptly dives under the comforter, hiding from view.

 

"What's this all about?" She looks around to the other boys wide eyed when he doesn't move or give a response. 

 

"He's embarrassed ‘cos he can't read," Travis explains simply. 

 

"Well, he's a small child," she replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

 

"He can't read for a small child either," he clarifies. "The teacher makes fun of him!"

 

It's the most caring thing she's heard one sibling say in defense of another. As much as they bicker and tease on a daily basis, he sounds genuinely offended on Johnny's behalf. It makes her heart swell painfully in her chest. 

 

The lump under the covers is still unmoving but she rubs tenderly at what she thinks feels like a leg or an arm anyway. There's a lump in her throat, too, as her heart breaks silently for him. She wills it away, chasing its retreat with a firm swallow, all the while wondering to do next.

 

She stands as the other three boys finish rubbing in cream and start to settle. "Okay, we'll talk about this later. Try to go to sleep."

 

oOo

 

The blonde is slow to arrive downstairs, her mind swirling from the day's events. "Jane!" She finds the brunette in the lounge, rifling through the sideboard drawers.

 

"Yeah! What is it?"

 

The brunette was relaxing on the couch last time she checked, having taken a back seat to the poison oak neutralization and after care, but now she has on her jacket as if preparing to leave. "Where are you going?"

 

"Out. If I could ever find my... Oh, wait." She pats her jacket pocket, finding a bunch of keys buried in the bottom. 

 

"Wait!" Maura grasps her forearm gently. "Not tonight! We have to talk." The word _please_ sticks at the back of her throat, too proud to beg. 

 

Jane isn't subtle when she brushes her off, avoiding eye contact and pulling away briskly. "When I get home. I'm in a hurry."

 

"Now!" the blonde shouts, earning a look and a sharply arched eyebrow that screams 'excuse me?!'

 

Jane steps closer, wagging her index finger near Maura's chest, "You know, I let the water routine slide the other day, but let's not push it, okay?"

 

"I got a little carried away with the hose," she concedes with her palms out. "But this is important."

 

With a physical change of stance, Jane softens, but only slightly. She's clearly impatient and itching to leave. "Okay, fine. What's on your mind, sugarlips?"

 

Somehow Jane pushes every one of her buttons without making much effort and her irritation rises by the second. "Stop calling me sugarlips! I have a name. Call me Maura."

 

Sighing loudly, Jane urges and shucks a thumb over her shoulder, "Get to the point,  _Maura._ I'm busy. The guys are waitin' for me."

 

"You can't run out every time things get complicated here. The kids are sick!"

 

Jane throws up her hands, "They got medicated lotion. What do you want me to do?"

 

"Take on some grown-up responsibility!" Maura snaps. 

 

Stomping a foot, Jane wants to tell the woman to mind her own damn business. "I earn the money. That's a responsibility."

 

"Are you aware that Johnny can't read?" she continues, pushing the issue further. "That Travis only reads smut magazines? I can't get him out of the bathroom."

 

"He's thirteen!" Jane yells in response. "I'll build you another bathroom!"

 

She jabs a finger into Jane's chest, unwilling to permit the woman to make empty, superficial promises that she can neither afford nor find time to keep. "They don't need that! They need guidance from you!"

 

"Oh-oh-oh! Now, don't you worry about me and my boys, okay? We're pals."

 

"They have enough pals," Maura jabs again. "They need a parent."

 

"Hey, hey, hey, look. I decided a long time before you... you and me...  _We..."_ Jane clears her throat, covering her faux pas. "We decided a long time ago, before we started this family, we'd raise these kids naturally, not force bullshit rules..." It was mostly true, which made a nice change for the sake of Jane's guilty conscience; it just wasn't Maura who had partaken in that particular agreement.

 

"I'm not talking about discipline. I'm talking..."

 

"Stuff you shouldn't be talking about! It's none of your business anyway." Dammit, there it was. She'd already bitten her tongue once but it found its way out.

 

"My children are none of my business?!" Maura shrieks, shaking her head in disbelief. 

 

Jane sees no option but to run from the disaster that is her home life. But then it is something she is used to and has perfected over the years. She looks at her watch before waving it in Maura's face and rushing out the door. "Look... I have... Now I'm late! Thanks a lot! Appreciate it."

 

oOo

 

Creeping in to the house in the early hours, Jane tiptoes through the lounge. She crouches by the sofa and lays a gentle hand on the back of the blonde’s shoulder. "Hey, Maura. Are you asleep?"

 

With her back to her wife, the blonde whines into a pillow, "No. Go away."

 

"Uh... listen. I'm... I'm sorry," Jane breathes quietly. She keeps rubbing her hand on the blonde’s blanket covered body, as if her voice alone isn’t enough keep Maura's attention. And why should it? After the horrible things she said. "I'm sorry I came down on you so hard before."

 

"It's okay." It's not, but Jane’s not about to leave her alone to sulk and suffer in peace. 

 

"Just... I don't want you to think I don't appreciate all the work you're doin' in the house and how you're handling the kids and all that, uh... You know, I think you're doin' great. I mean, what you said about me and the boys tonight, uh... I guess you probably... You know, maybe you got a small point there, and I just..." Sighing loudly, she perches on the edge of the couch in the only space available behind Maura's knees. 

 

She's thought about it a lot, thought of nothing else all evening even though it's painful, and decided maybe now's the time to shed more light on their - _her -_  life before the move back to Swampscott.  She tugs at the blanket, uncovering Maura's back, but the woman's front is still buried, hidden from view and even though the light is low she needs to do this face to face. "I can't... I can't talk to you while you're turned away. Will you just please lift your head out?"

 

The woman wriggles, "No. No!"

 

"Why?" Jane pleads, surprised when Maura does finally sit up in the dim light. 

 

"Because I'm so ugly," she cries, sniffling. Her hair is wild and she's got white creamy patches all over her face. "I got poison oak, too!" she bawls. 

 

Jane turns and kneels on the floor, arms stretching out to take Maura's face in her hands. She strokes a cheek before smoothing down her hair. "Come on, now. Nobody cares what you look like. I mean, I - _we -_ we like the way you look.” More serious with every word, she means it when she says, “You’re beautiful.”

 

Too close all of a sudden, Jane drops her hands. Changing her mind about their important talk, she gets up to move away. "All right, forget it."

 

"I don't even have a wedding ring!" Maura continues to cry behind Jane, forcing the woman to spin around.

 

"What?"

 

Dropping the blanket, she holds up her empty left hand. It is adorned by nothing but red blotches and white patches. "I must have lost my wedding ring in the sea."

 

It might be time for Jane to get a checkup given the recent frequency of the chest pains she keeps having. Trust Maura to think of something that tiny and insignificant. She bends, strong arms finding the woman's back and legs. "Okay, come on. Let's go."

 

Maura flails wildly, "Oh, no. I don't want the hose again!"

 

Standing back up, Jane explains defensively, "I'm puttin' you in the bedroom. I'll take the couch." Lifting Maura's back and legs again, she continues, "Oh, hey, listen. I've had poison oak a million times. Come on. Up! Up!”

 

Being lifted so easily makes Maura a little light headed. It’s comforting. With an arm around Jane's shoulders, she buries her face into a long neck. Jane’s grip might be strong but the blonde clings on the same way Johnny might, like a spider monkey. Her hand finds a straining bicep and she runs her palm over it, thankful for Jane’s years of manual work.

 

Inside the bedroom she thinks the brunette might just throw her across the room, she has little evidence to the contrary, but then Jane places her so gently on the bed it takes her breath away.

 

The brunette tucks her in, smoothing out the comforter and fluffing the pillows as if she were as precious as one of her children. “You know, I once got poison oak on my bu... back. And, uh... Well, don't you worry. It'll be gone in no time. Lift your head up. That's it. Is that better?"

 

Jane’s voice is the softest Maura has ever heard and the blonde can't tear her eyes away. "Yeah," she whispers. 

 

Jane sits on the bed, one hand resting on Maura's covered knee. "All right?"

 

"Yes." But then the blonde asks, "Tell me something about my life, about my past. Please. Something not… horrible."

 

"Uh, okay. Yeah." There's a pause while she chews on her lip, before she curls, leaning on the bed by an elbow. "Well, there was that time, uh... ...when you were, uh... You were working at... yeah, Burger Boy over in Lewisville. And, uh, this kid started choking. Everybody there panicked except for you. You ran over to him and you gave him that Heimlich maneuver, where you... Y'know, and poof! The kid puked up a fry and they named you Burger Boy employee of the month. It was great. I was really proud of you."

 

Eyes closed and humming low, her head pushing further into the pillow, Maura smiles, "You can be quite charming when you want to be."

 

Jane shuts her eyes for a moment. There's that pain again. She hates being mean, isn't mean to anyone deliberately under normal circumstances. There's a tiny sliver of something suddenly floating around her bloodstream. Wanting. She wants to be more charming more often. She swallows and ignores it before getting up to leave. "Ah. You just caught me on a bad day. Good night, Maura."

 

"Good night," the blonde mumbles as Jane looks on from the darkness of the open doorway.


	10. Chapter 10

The weather is beautiful and the brunette hasn't taken a day off in a long time. Too long. So their family trip out to Phillips Park is a much needed break for all of them. 

 

Jane's cry can be heard across the clearing as she plays ball with the kids. “Heads up!”

 

It causes a chuckle from Maura because, as much as she enjoys sharing in the boys' activities, they have discovered she isn't exactly cut out for swinging a bat. Happy just to watch from a distance just beyond the tree line, she returns Jane's smile whenever it is thrown her way. 

 

Turning burgers on the grill, the blonde has spent the last half hour or so getting reacquainted with Barry Frost. She's listened intently as he spoke, focusing herself more on the food, allowing him the space to occasionally let slip tidbits of information about Jane along the way.

 

There is still an amount of awkwardness and tension between the two women that she can't explain, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask direct questions of Jane’s best friend when she could ask the woman herself.

 

Jane looks over again, like her ears burn every time the man talks.

 

"We went through the Academy together, worked great together. Used to call her Roly Poly Rizzoli," Barry chuckles as Maura turns to him, mouth open in mock horror. "She used to call me Puke Boy though" he adds, leveling the field of embarrassing confessions. "That's how I ended up in Cyber Crime, couldn't stick it in Homicide." The mention of his career gets an impressed nod and she's good enough not to tease him for his failures. 

 

"Now, Barry, when did we date?" Maura asks brightly, genuine curiosity voiced without any judgment. 

 

Setting his beer down on the picnic table, he takes a deep breath but is saved from answering when Jane jogs over to them, taking a break from their unofficial Rizzoli little league and grabbing a beer from the cooler. 

 

"Let's eat!" she proclaims, but the roll of Maura's eyes suggests she's a little premature on that front. 

 

"It might be..." Barry tries, following up with Maura's inquiry, not wanting to seem rude by ignoring her direct question, but Jane cuts him off.

 

"Shouldn't we talk about the golf course?" She winks, a subtle indication that as far as she is concerned this is a much safer territory.

 

"Yeah," he nods as long tan legs curl under the table opposite before the edge is used to remove a beer bottle cap.

 

"The guys with suits come down in a couple of weeks," she says, reminding her friend of their looming deadline. It's no use having a potential investor if they don't have anything to present. 

 

"What do you think about this, huh… 'Sink 'Em and Drink 'Em' - holes based on famous breweries?" he offers.

 

"I think what I thought yesterday," she frowns, shaking her head. "It's a lousy idea."

 

The entire plan is worryingly incomplete given this is the extent of their joint creativity. The brash comment is taken in good humor though. "I thought you'd change your mind now you're sober."

 

Silver tongs turn hotdogs as Maura chimes in, "What about other places? Foreign places."

 

Two heads turn to the woman who still has her eyes on the food.  "What do you mean? Like France?"

 

Her accent is exquisite and there's barely a pause before Maura replies, " _Mais oui!_   _La Tour Eiffel, comme c'est jolie!_ ” She gasps and her body freezes, eyes staring straight ahead. “I speak French!" she breathes with wonder, talking to herself as Jane and Barry look on with surprise. "It just came out. Do I know what I said? Yes, I do." Her facial expression morphs every second, from shock to confusion to realization to suspicion, eyes narrowing as her brain works. "I must have learned that in Paris. When was I in Paris? In the Navy."

 

Jane nods fervently, eyeing Barry to do the same. "The Navy," she repeats, cementing the idea. It's a very good explanation even if she hasn't conjured it herself this time. 

 

"Well, it's a stupid idea in any language," Barry pouts. "Besides, we're building these things in America."

 

"Wait a minute," the brunette says, grabbing her jacket and pulling a notebook and pencil from the pocket. "This isn't a bad idea. We could invent some wild things here." She turns to Maura, waving a hand in encouragement. "Go on."

 

Grill tongs are waved through the air as she thinks on her feet, "Well, like, uh... the Taj Mahal, Seven Wonders of the World."

 

Totally onboard, Jane bounces in her seat with excitement. "Bring the Seven Wonders to the people of Swampscott," she enthuses.

 

"Well, we gotta bring it in for a price," Barry murmurs. It won’t help if they get stuck on an idea that they can't deliver. 

 

"I can bring it in," Jane replies confidently, smiling at the man before turning fully to address her wife. "But can you draw me some pictures so I can see what you mean? Maura?"

 

The blonde is distracted, watching their eldest boy talk to a young girl a short distance away from the wooded picnic area.

 

Jane removes herself from the table and sidles up to Maura, coming to stand right behind her shoulder. Last time she checked the kids were still playing ball, why they were milling about now she wasn't sure. "What's this?"

 

"Travis found a girlfriend," Maura whispers over her shoulder, turning her head slightly to reveal an affectionate smile.

 

Jane's eyes are on Maura's face, watching the woman watch their children. It wouldn't take much to slip her arms around a trim waist, she thinks, push her nose into blonde hair and inhale... The experience is strange and yet the pull feels entirely natural. 

 

"Hey, Trav! Don't knock her up!" yells Andy, suddenly splitting the peace and quiet of the park.

 

"Very funny!" Maura drawls, pointing her tongs in his direction as Jane backs away. "Watch your..."

 

"Oh, Mom!"

 

"Yeah, 'Oh, Mom!' Watch your language!" she chides, all no nonsense parent as his shoulders slump. 

 

Getting back on track, Jane sits at the table once more and picks up her pencil. "Pick a wonder."

 

"Stevie Wonder," Barry replies, closing his eyes and moving his head to and fro. Maura laughs loudly and he grins. 

 

"Give me a wonder," Jane repeats, to Maura this time, rolling her eyes at Barry's inability to take this seriously. "One wonder."

 

"There's Mount Rushmore. The Parthenon."

 

"Parthenon, right." Jane's never heard of it but she's writing everything down and will look it up later. She'd ask Maura but suddenly she's reluctant to appear uneducated in the blonde's eyes. She's not about to admit why it matters. 

 

"St Basil's, the Russian cathedral. Grand Canyon," Maura continues, counting off on the fingers of her free hand as she turns hotdogs again with the other. 

 

"Everybody'll love that!" Barry exclaims at the one American landmark he recognizes. Jane's enthusiasm is contagious and within moments he's excited at the possibilities. 

 

"Egyptian pyramids. The Eiffel Tower."

 

Leaning over the table, Barry takes a good look at Jane's notebook to find her scrawled notes are punctuated by several very rough drawings of statues. Being negative is not Barry's intention but as the partner in this little dream of theirs he has the job of grounding her occasionally. "It's gonna be expensive and it needs to be weather proof.”

 

Something in the way Barry looks at the paper makes Maura curious and she crosses over to the table to see for herself.

 

When she leans down over Jane's shoulder, full lips moving right next to a hot ear, the brunette stops breathing. 

 

“Fiberglass," Maura states simply before moving back to the grill. Two sets of eyes narrow intently in her direction, forcing her to elaborate. "It's cheap, lightweight, easily molded into complex shapes. It's less brittle than carbon fiber composites and its bulks strength often exceeds that of many metals."

 

Barry throws a look at Jane that clearly says 'how does she know that?' but the brunette just shrugs, used to it.

 

A blush rises on Maura's cheeks from the brightness of her wife's beaming smile.

 

“It's perfect!" Jane says, still smiling. The relaxing day, the warm weather, the winning idea, the beautiful woman... It's all perfect. 

 

oOo

 

The dining table is covered in large pieces of paper, crayons and pencils strewn everywhere. Maura and the boys have been sketching her miniature golf suggestions ever since they got home from the park. It's the quietest and most cooperative they've ever been to her knowledge.

 

They really are wonderful. Well behaved, too, if the mood strikes, which thankfully is getting to be more and more often as the days and weeks pass. She smiles before letting out a tired sigh. "Let's clean up for an early dinner."

 

Small hands pitch in, layering sheet upon sheet and scooping up their coloring supplies to pack them away.

 

Andy leans into her lap, and she instinctively wraps him up in her arms, pulling the rest of his weight from his chair to hers. "Isn't Ma gonna eat with us tonight?"

 

"No," she breathes, running her fingers through the hair at his temple. They'd had such a good day it had felt like a shame for it to end prematurely with Jane's unexpected departure. Disappointment had filled her, surprisingly, upon finding out Jane would rather spend the evening with her friends than her family and it seeps now, unbidden, into her words. "She had to go out, darling. She had to go bowling."

 

"Really?" says Travis, raising a doubting eyebrow that's uncannily like his mother's. He points to the laundry basket by the bedroom door, piled high with clean clothes that Maura has yet to find time to put away. On top sits Jane's bowling bag. "It's pretty hard to go bowling without a bowling ball." 

 

She’s perfectly aware that being without her own personalized bowling bowl will not prevent Jane from participating. The outing is still perfectly plausible. But Maura wants to deliver it anyway, for her own peace of mind.

 

Rushing straight out of the house isn’t an option, so she feeds, bathes, and puts the kids to bed while she mulls it over. Heightened emotions can make people act irrationally and that’s the last thing she wants to do. It still doesn’t feel irrational hours later as she leaves the house.

 

oOo

 

 

It's heavy, not just the bowling bag but the worry that Maura also carries as she trudges forlornly through the Swampscott Bowlarama parking lot.

 

Jane isn't inside.

 

No one who knows her wife is anywhere to be found, except for the friendly server behind the counter. Jane is a regular, the woman had said, so the existence of the bowling bag isn't a total lie, even if the brunette apparently hasn't been in for a while. Her suggestion to 'check down by the dock' throws Maura even further for a loop.

 

Would Jane cheat? Does that explain it, the tension and the distance between them? Was it always this way?

 

Jane is always very fond of excuses, deflects a lot when it comes to talking about their life before Maura's amnesia. 

 

It hurts, to be honest, unreasonably so. She still doesn't know exactly who she is but she's learning. And life isn't half as bad as she first thought. She quite likes it, in fact, is starting to feel... happy. Content almost.

 

To think she might be unhappily married and somehow unaware of it causes a lump in her throat.

 

Is she so unlovable that her wife would skip out at night to see someone else? Or is it a recent development, only since the accident? Has it changed her so much that Jane can't love her anymore?

 

Her sadness deepens as she continues to search. Of all the revelations she has experienced recently this one hurts the most, raises the most questions. It's clear she doesn't know Jane, not properly as a wife should, and that part of it is due to the walls Jane has up around herself. Maura wonders if those walls are her doing.

 

As multi faceted as Jane is, she finds the parts exposed more recently are parts that she likes. Certainly there are things that indicate why she would have fallen for Jane in the first place. She's been trying so hard to be happy, to fit back into their life as it must have been before her accident, that being made aware of her own ignorance and Jane's potential deceit is galling.

 

She doesn't want to be angry, doesn't want to jump to conclusions. She just needs answers. 

 

oOo

 

She finds them at the dockyard.

 

After parking the car, she lugs the bowling bag from the passenger seat and stalks off into the night. 

 

Once through the parking lot she turns a corner and passes by the small harbor, following the sound of distant voices. Scared and trembling slightly, she passes through shadow after shadow thrown by the floodlights that hang off the side of the warehouse. 'Fertilizer Plant' the signs says and she wonders why on earth people would work down here at night.

 

This is the only bit of activity in the whole area and, though she'd rather be at home watching her beautiful boys sleep peacefully, her feet keep moving towards it.

 

At the next corner she stops. Hanging back in the shadows feels ill advised, dangerous, but she wants real, hard evidence if she's going to confront Jane about her lies.

 

Her nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell that she'd not noticed until now hits her all at once. She stands watch as the scene becomes clear, observing several men as they complete a business transaction in a small loading bay. 

 

"Scott Murphy?" asks the man in the overalls and the customer nods. "Can I see your invoice?"

 

Something is checked off the paper with a pen before he turns, giving instructions to someone out of sight behind the customer's truck. "This ain't your average pile of fertilizer here. No, siree. This here's a special blend. Fish heads, shrimp skins, crab claws, earthworm droppings..."

 

The description makes Maura green. It certainly explains the foul smell that hangs in the air. It's so strong she thinks it might take two cycles to wash it out of her clothes. 

 

"I don't wanna know," the customer dismisses, pulling several bills from his wallet.

 

The man in the overalls disappears as another person comes around the back of the truck, hauling a huge sack on their shoulder.

 

A small gasp escapes Maura as she presses a hand to her chest. 

 

Jane.

 

She has her dark ponytail partially tucked into a khaki cap and the shadows partially hide her face. But the raspy voice is unmistakable as she drops the load into the pickup, "Here you go."

 

There are several more bags after that, each reasonably fifty or sixty pounds each, Maura guesses, and by the time Jane is done she's breathing hard. The brunette removes her cap and shoves a hand under the bottom of her t-shirt, lifting it to wipe at her sweaty brow. The blonde catches a glimpse of tanned, firm abs, a sheen of moisture glinting under the floodlights before another truck pulls up and blocks her view.

 

The man in the overalls shouts, "After this one you get to shovel fish guts! I need thirty more bags filling before you leave!" Every word sounds amused, as if he’s reveling in Jane’s discomfort.

 

Maura’s heart sinks into her stomach as she hears Jane's weary and despondent reply, "You got it, boss."

 

Backing up around the corner, coming to rest against the wall, the blonde closes her eyes and lets out a shaky sigh.

 

She feels warm. Everything inside of her is warm, unlike moments ago when ice seemed to be the main component of her veins, dread worming its way through her organs. It sets her on fire to think her wife would do this, would take on a second job and an unpleasant one at that, would put herself through this for her family. Their family. 

 

Maura marvels at the woman's physical strength, at her sacrifice and dedication, but still she worries. The questions that swirl in her mind now are no longer about Jane's romantic motives or agenda. They centre around Jane's pride, around her own behavior as a partner, and the reasons why Jane might decide she couldn't come clean about something as banal as working for a living.

 

Maura's disappointment grows, but Jane is no longer its target.

 

As she makes her way back to her car there's a tiny spring in her step. All thoughts of Jane cheating are gone. She might be lovable after all. But now she has another problem. Clearly it bothers her wife enough to keep secrets, and she swears to herself that, while she won't confront Jane about it or reveal her awareness of the brunette's nighttime activities, she will be more supportive. Doing her share and making them feel like one, cohesive family unit, worthy of honesty and confessions no matter how embarrassing, will be a responsibility she gladly owns. 

 

Jane once said she was proud of her. Tonight the opposite is also true. One more facet of Jane Rizzoli that Maura really likes. 


	11. Chapter 11

When she isn’t fixing up the house and its furnishings or sewing herself a more suitably fitted wardrobe, Maura spends her afternoons working on the final sketches for the miniature golf park with the children.

 

Jane already had a section of Phillips Park earmarked for the tourist attraction, a section that nobody ever used. It was overgrown and neglected to the point where the town council had said years ago that if anyone came up with a suitable development idea they were open to suggestions. That had been Jane and Barry's kick starter, if only a pipe dream at the time; something to bring in visitors and their money to their sleepy town. 

 

Now the brunette is hopping around the lounge, trying to get her heeled boots on, when Maura grasps her by the shoulders, stilling her nervous hyper activity.

 

"I forgot to give you this," the blonde say softly. 

 

It's a tie. It is very elegant, slim, and attractive in color and design, but Jane still scrunches up her face. "What have I got to put on airs for?"

 

"Oh, stop fussing." Maura smoothes out the lapels of Jane's suit jacket as she presses up close. The grey blazer is a new look on the brunette, a good one. It quickens the blonde's pulse a little if she's honest, makes the black-brown of her loose, thick curls even more striking. "You look great," she smiles, looking up into deep brown eyes that stare back, pulling her in and rooting her to the spot all at once.  

 

"Well," Jane says with a sharp inhale and then a cheeky smile, "they all put their panties on just like me - one leg at a time." The joke breaks the tension and Maura helps Jane with fixing her tie and folding down her shirt collar. 

 

Maura is helplessly giddy as her wife turns to pick up a folder and grab her keys. "Now, don't be nervous, okay? If you don't get it, so what?" Jane leans down and pecks her cheek before heading to the door. She keeps talking even as her heart skips a beat, watching Jane wave absently from the doorway. Putting everything she has into being the embodiment of support and encouragement, she's on the doorstep as Jane's truck pulls away. "We've been through tougher times than these before," she calls, scratching her head and turning back inside, "I think."

 

oOo

 

Seven men and one woman look decidedly out of place in their smart suits as they sit around a table at the Filthy Skipper.

 

Barry had thought it the best place for a meeting and asked Korsak to reserve them a large table as a favor. His idea that the familiar surroundings would help them both feel less nervous turns out to be wrong. He is so nervous he feels nauseous though he imagines Jane is doing slightly better. She always did have a stronger constitution.

 

Having laid the groundwork between the investors and town council members, all Barry really needs to do is make introductions to get them started. Jane will take over from there and he will chip in with information from time to time. This is the skeleton format they agreed to beforehand. His hands are shaking as he takes a sip of water, hoping it goes to plan. 

 

Angela delivers the last of their drinks order to the table. She's super professional, addressing the group of men with kind greetings instead of the usual slapstick banter she plies on her customers. Jane had given her a stern warning on the way in, which seems to have been heeded, but then Angela winks and throws the pair a double thumbs up as she retreats.

 

Jane rolls her eyes and mouths 'go away' as Barry pulls himself together. He takes another sip of water and stands. Here goes nothing. 

 

"Gentlemen, this is Jane Rizzoli," he smiles, gesturing at his friend. Lifting a brochure from his placemat, a brochure that sits in front of every person at the table, he displays the cover with its logo.  "What we're here for this evening is this, the Wonders of the World miniature golf course."

 

Barry feels a blush when Jane locks her gaze onto him. Encouragement and praise are as clear as day in her eyes, 'you're doing great, partner'. It's the silent boost he needs. 

 

"If you look at these pictures," Barry says as he opens the folder and begins to flick through the pages, "you can begin to sort of feel what we're trying to do. We want to bring some of this outer world here into Swampscott."

 

Hushed voices murmur around the table as the men spend long minutes looking over every drawing, discussing, comparing, and pointing every time something catches their interest or raises a question.

 

When they start to quiet down, Jane clears her throat. She sounds a little more confident than Barry but much less than she feels. "It's not just about the golf holes. We'll have landscaping, integrated interactive fountains, concessions stands. The Leaning Tower of Pisa, for instance, will double as a pizza stand." That gets a chuckle from a few of the men and she breathes hard in relief. They seem to like it so far, so she ploughs on, providing specifics on costs, timescales, technology. "That sort of gives you an idea of where we might go in the future..."

 

Barry is beaming. He never thought they'd ever get to this point after all these years but here he is. It's surreal. He thinks a cold bucket of water might be needed to bring him back down to earth, but then the cold glass of water he accidently knocks onto the man next to him as he sits does the trick. 

 

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry," he whispers, dabbing at the man's leg with a napkin. Panic sets in immediately. If this scuppers their chances Jane will murder him in his sleep and no one will ever find his body.

 

"Angela!" he shouts, frantically waving the woman over from another table.

 

A few hushed words are exchanged before the woman kindly leads the gentleman away from the table to the restroom. She brings Barry another glass of water, patting his shoulder reassuringly, before quickly wiping down the chair and table. He'll buy her a drink later, he decides, no matter what Jane does to him in the meantime. 

 

His sigh is heavy as the man returns to his seat, dried off and smiling tightly. Barry hopes his charm can rescue him from this situation before the younger Rizzoli finds out what happened. "Have you _ever_ been nervous in your life?" he whispers as he crosses his fingers under the table. 

 

oOo

 

Maura is occupying the rocking chair on the front porch as Jane pulls up in the driveway. She thinks perhaps the blonde has nodded off, enjoying the night air. She daren't hope that Maura was out here waiting for her to get home. 

 

Stepping out of the truck, she closes the door quietly and slings her suit jacket over one shoulder. The night is still warm but breezy, and she swipes lazily at several strands of hair that blow across her face.

 

Maura stands and takes a step forward as Jane stalks closer. Maybe she wasn't asleep, or maybe Jane's arrival woke her, either way the brunette only really cares that she's there. She marvels at how the dim porch light somehow makes Maura's hair shine like spun gold. She's barefoot, wearing Jane's comfy jeans and a t-shirt again. Simple but so very sexy.

 

Swaggering more deliberately than normal, Jane reaches the porch steps, looking up at her wife with a straight face. "Go ahead, ask me if we got the money."

 

"Did you get the money?" the blonde asks quietly. Clearly she's still nervous about the outcome, and as much as she'd proclaimed the opposite upon Jane's departure, the outcome _did_ matter. To both of them. 

 

Jane pauses for as long as her excitement will allow, which isn't long and she squeals, throwing her arms into the air. "We got the money!"

 

"Oh my god!" Maura shrieks, leaping into strong arms. "That's so great!"

 

In an instant, the blonde is wrapped up in Jane's embrace, just like she's wanted for days. She squeezes her waist and luxuriates in the bodily warmth beneath her palms. Spinning, she sweeps Maura entirely off her feet as the blonde's face is buried into her neck. "Can you believe it?!" she breathes, shoving her own face into golden hair where an ear lies beneath. She plants a kiss in that hair without thinking, just like the kiss from earlier, totally unplanned, but she can't bring herself to regret it.

 

"We did it," she says, setting Maura down on her feet.

 

"You did it," Maura beams, her gaze flicking from brown eyes to full lips to open shirt buttons and back again as her hands rest on Jane's biceps. There's a moment between them, perfect silence except for their labored breaths until the blonde speaks again softly, "Now the hard work begins."

 

They fall together in laughter. It hasn't escaped either woman's notice that nothing has been exactly easy up to this point.

 

As irony tickles at their funny bones, Jane wraps Maura up in her arms once again, lifting the woman like a rag doll as she giggles uncontrollably. Jane's smile couldn't get any bigger as she climbs the porch steps and carries Maura into the house.

 

"I'll show you hard work, woman," she teases as Maura squeals once more.

 

oOo

 

Jane’s been working for days, through all available hours of daylight, while Barry pops in and out depending on his primary workload. She peers into the guts of a half constructed Egyptian Sphinx, hands resting on her tool belt, as he points out the finer points of the hi-tech organs within.

 

"Once the ball goes in, the randomizer selects the output direction and fountain spray. The early holes have two or three exits, the later ones have four or five. Makes it a bit harder to guess, y'know."

 

She smiles and nods. It all makes perfect sense just so long as he doesn't go into too much detail of how the actual computer chips do their business. It's strictly need to know and she's certain she doesn't need to know.

 

She got done working on the pipes and water supply of this mid course hole a day or so ago, and with the fiberglass now taking shape it’s the first one to be almost complete.

 

They move back around the front, standing on the brand new green, and Barry slings a ball into the hole to make their very first test run. "So she rolls up here... and now..." It disappears into the contraption so they turn around quickly, watching for the ball's reappearance, "Here it comes..."

 

Anticipation builds, excitement buzzing through Jane's veins as the ball pops back out onto the green in a random spot. It's something they both wanted, to keep the players guessing, and it works perfectly. Jane's idea to have a water feature at each hole then comes to fruition a half second later as they get lightly showered from various hidden spouts. It’s the perfect addition for summer and something unique to their park.

 

The smack of their high five is drowned out by 'it works!' and 'alright!', but Jane's smile drops off far too quickly for Barry's liking. Something's been weighing her down for days now and he suspects it doesn't have anything to do with miniature golf. 

 

"What?"

 

She wants to be excited at their achievement, is excited, but she's having a hard time concentrating on what they've accomplished when it's mostly down to one person, that person’s enormous brain and brilliant ideas.

 

"I gotta tell her," Jane breathes, visibly deflating. Her eyes move along the ground and she waves her hands about as she talks, likes she's not convinced and is trying to talk herself around. "I gotta tell Maura the truth. In the beginning, it was kind of okay because it was part of the joke. But now it's more like outright lies and I...”

 

The weight on her shoulders has done nothing but increase every day since she brought Maura home. It's reached unbearable and her month is already up. Being torn between enjoying her life exactly as it is and freeing the woman as per the original plan is eating her up inside.

 

Barry's hands are on his hips and one eyebrow is cocked when she focuses. "I know what you're thinkin'."

 

"Hey, I'm not thinkin' anything," he dismisses, shaking his head and trying not to smirk. 

 

She's not fooling him and she knows it. Paired with the conscience screaming inside her head it's very annoying. She growls before storming off, pretending not to notice him smiling as she passes. "Yeah, you are and I'm gonna tell her. I know it's time to tell her!" 


	12. Chapter 12

"Ooh, Dr. Death looks mad," Maura exclaims, her face matching her angry tone.

 

From her lap, Johnny points a finger at the open comic book, following along. "Joker's saying 'No'."

 

"I know," she smiles before moving them to the next page. "What does he say up here?"

 

Taking a second to run his eyes over the cartoon, eyebrows firmly drawn together in concentration, he reads, "I will re... re... re..."

 

It's only been a few weeks but already he's improved. Using his favorite material doesn’t hurt and he seems to respond better with a little extra assistance now and then so she can't help but prompt him. "Re-duce."

 

"Reduce your puny planet to rub... ru... ru... rubble."

 

When his beaming little face and dark eyes looks up at her she swoons. "Good! That's very good, sweetie," she gushes, squishing his head against her chest and planting a big kiss on his crown. 

 

A few seconds later he looks up again and she is taken aback. He has an altogether serious and sober look, one that even on an adult would surely break your heart. "Are you gonna leave?" he whispers.

 

"No," she says lovingly, holding his gaze and cupping his cheek. "I'm your mom. I'm not going anywhere."

 

"But sometimes moms leave," he says, dropping his eyes into his lap.

 

"Well, I guess maybe they do," she sighs softly, wrapping both arms tightly around him.

 

However many days she spent away from them at the time of her accident must have hurt them more than she thought, but there's no sense in sugar-coating the way Jane sometimes does. She's found her kids to be remarkably resilient. Better to be honest, she thinks. "Well, I guess maybe they do. But I'm not gonna go anywhere." She leans her chin on his head and feels him nod when he speaks. 

 

"Good."

 

Scrambling away, he dashes upstairs as fast as his little legs will carry him. He's back before Maura even has chance to tidy away all his comics. She leans forward in the armchair as he holds out his hands. "Oooh, what is this? Is this a present for me?"

 

"Yes. I made it from macaroni," he grins, holding up the long necklace as she bends and he slips it over her head. 

 

"I love it," she smiles, holding it to her chest with spread fingers. There's no lie, only a tiny lump in her throat when she promises, "I'll always wear it."

 

Stepping forward to stand between her legs, Johnny throws his arms around her neck and holds on for dear life. If her heart hadn't already been smashed to pieces by their conversation she thinks it would break all over again.

 

He's quick to retreat when the three older boys enter the room. It's understandable he doesn't want to be seen as the baby anymore since he's growing up so fast, already several inches taller than when she came home from the hospital. Something about that makes her happy and sad all at once. Watching them grow is so wonderful, but she doesn't want it end. 

 

Scant minutes pass before Jane bounds through the front door.

 

Travis is raiding the fridge and Maura is grateful he's yet to turn into the brooding silent teenager that Jane keeps expecting as he shouts, "Hey, Ma!"

 

"Hi!" Jane replies, sounding a little surprised to find the entirety of her family all together at once. "How's it goin', guys?"

 

"I got the part of Tiny Tim in the school play," Andy exclaims, both fists raised into the air in triumph. 

 

"I got an A in Science!" shouts Charlie, and Maura chuckles because she knows he's more excited about using his knowledge to make some of his inventions rather than pass any exams. 

 

"I'm still flunkin' math," Travis grumbles, a sandwich in his hand and his mouth half full as he trudges out from the kitchen.

 

When he plops down on the couch beside Maura's armchair she pats him on the knee. "Well, I guess we better work on it later?" A shrug and an eye roll is all she gets in return, but it's not an outright refusal and from Travis that's a big deal. He's stubborn in many ways but the blonde has become quite adept at managing the boys, him in particular, in regards to their homework. 

 

"You're just in time," she says, finally moving to tidy the pile of comic books on the coffee table. Her smile is warm and welcoming as she turns to Jane, following up with a wink. "Dr Death is on the rampage."

 

"Ah," Jane nods as she remains standing and fidgeting in the middle of the room. "Maura, I need to talk to you. Alone."

 

That's all the signal the boys need to head upstairs and busy themselves in their room.

 

Maura steps closer, concern written all over her face, "Is something wrong?"

 

"Uh, well... No," Jane rambles, pushing some wayward curls behind her ear. Her weight switches from foot to foot before she takes Maura's hands and guides her to the couch. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. No, I just... I need to tell you somethin'. Here, sit down."

 

"What is it?"

 

Jane wipes a hand over her face and takes a deep breath. "Maura, I've done... I've done something that, um... I'm ashamed of. And I just..."

 

Finally, Maura thinks. She never imagined Jane would come clean without being confronted. She wonders what brought it on. "I already know," she says gently, dropping her head and peering upwards to meet Jane's gaze as the brunette stares at their joined hands.

 

The shock is clear to see as Jane's head snaps up. "You do? - What... What do you know?" she stammers, confusion now evident in stormy, dark eyes. 

 

The compulsion is there, and not for the first time, so Maura just follows her instincts and lifts a hand to cup Jane's face. She leans closer as her thumb strokes along a prominent cheekbone, "You work nights at the fertilizer plant. You don't have to be ashamed because you shovel fish guts."

 

The quiet and gentle way Maura speaks has Jane closing her eyes. She knows she shouldn't but she can't help focusing on the feel of the woman's soft hand. Their foreheads meet almost of their own accord. It's comfortable in a way that Jane knows is totally wrong given what she came home to do and she shakes her head as the blonde continues to be altogether too sweet to her.

 

"I'm proud of you no matter what you do," Maura praises. "Is that all?"

 

"Uh, well, that's one of the things, but I..." When Jane's eyes open they meet glistening hazel, a sharp dagger to her heart. Maura still deserves the truth. "No. Not really."

 

Perplexed again, Maura repeats, "What is it?"

 

Gripping the blonde's hands and pulling them to her, Jane braces for impact. She has no idea what the fallout might be, but whatever it is she deserves it. Now, how to phrase it? I kidnapped you. I stole you from your life without your knowledge? However she puts it it's gonna be bad.

 

"Maura... I... I..." It's on the tip of her tongue. She should keep it simple and just start from the beginning, she thinks. Nope. She can't do it. With her mission aborted, another lie is needed to explain her behavior. "God, I forgot your birthday," she blurts out in a rush, cursing herself for being such a coward. 

 

"It's my birthday?" the blonde squeaks, eyebrows shooting up under her bangs. 

 

Jane pulls her up off the couch and into the bedroom, a much better plan in mind. "Yep. Come on! Get changed!"

oOo

Propped up on an elbow, Jane watches from the bar of The Filthy Skipper as Maura dances her heart out. The blonde's got some moves, she'll give her that, but more pleasing than anything is the sight of Maura full of life.

 

The place is jumping and she throws her arms in the air and spins with childlike abandon, feeling the music as the live band plays.

 

Jane's face hurts from smiling. 

 

It had taken over an hour to extract Maura from Angela's prying and meddling and now, even though the sight makes her happy, she wishes she had more of the blonde's attention. _You can't be jealous of a parquet floor or amateur three-piece playing rock classics_ she chides herself, chewing the inside of her mouth while trying to summon the courage to join in.

 

She should have known she couldn't keep Maura from Angela forever. Vince already knew, of course, even if he hadn't met her. But trying to explain the situation to Angela without having the fallout get back to Maura was a delicate process. She didn't want to lie again, has lied enough recently to last a lifetime and promises herself she'll stop, but it was the only way. 

 

_"We'd just gotten together when she got the head injury, Ma. I didn't want to ruin it before it started. She had to get to know me all over again. That's the only reason I didn't introduce her to you until now. Please go easy on her. It's not her fault."_

 

She didn't beg as such but she did flutter her eyelashes and grasp at her mother's hands as she prayed for this not to go south in such a public place. 

 

They got along like a house on fire as it turned out, Maura saying she'd never felt more at home and that both Angela and Vince were lovely. They'd talked about the new house and settling in to a new neighborhood, discussed the boys and cooed over how well they were finally doing at the new school. It was very exciting to talk about Jane and Barry's venture with the golf park, Maura praising them both openly, smiling sweetly at the embarrassed brunette as her mother looked on, intrigued.

 

It was kinda weird how well it all went, filling Jane's boots with a sense of dread. Everything is too good to be true right now. And yet, she knows how to make it even better. At least for tonight. 

 

Jane stalks onto the dance floor, pressing her front into Maura's back, hands coming to rest on lithe hips. Maura smiles coyly over her shoulder and Jane feels her hands covered, forcing her to hold on and match the blonde's movements.

 

Heat seems to rise from the floor beneath them and Jane's shirt is starting to cling more than usual. The hips that roll under her palms feel hot to the touch, but she finds wherever she touches the blonde, outer thighs, abdomen, or waist it's all the same. Touching Maura makes her burn.

 

With a sheen developing on her brow and top lip she clutches the blonde tightly and shouts close to her ear. "Come on, I've had it!"

 

Turning, Maura squints, "What? Are we goin' home?"

 

"What?" Jane yells back. The band is good, the lead singer very talented, but the excruciating volume leaves a lot to be desired. 

 

"Are we going home?" Maura shouts again, exaggerating every syllable as she enunciates. 

 

"Oh, no. I just..." Jane shakes her head before waving a hand in front of her shiny face. "Aren't you hot?"

 

The vague sign language seems to help and Maura nods vigorously, points to the door that leads out onto the deck. "Yeah. Let's go outside."

 

"Come on!" Jane says, grabbing the blonde's hand to lead the way.

 

"Hey, let's not forget this," Maura hollers. She pulls the brunette back to the bar, grabbing Jane's beer and the half finished bottle of wine that sits next to it, "It's fifteen dollars a pop!" Maura grins and takes an unladylike swig of dark red liquid from the oversized bottle. She lets out a messy snort and then a full laugh as Jane's jaw drops in mock horror and she is pulled energetically across the dance floor and out into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

"Don't worry about what it costs," Jane smiles as she twirls the blonde under her arm, using Maura's own momentum to spin her out and back into her arms. "It's your birthday! I got it covered." 

 

They're close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces and Maura gazes up at her, sea green depths twinkling in the moonlight, exhales shallow.

 

The notion that, if she wanted to, Jane could lean in a fraction and rub her nose against the blonde's scares her to death. She wants to, so badly that she knows it won't stop there. Instead she takes a step back before reaching to take the bottles from Maura's hands. "Just one last toast to your birthday."

 

She leads them over to the railing, where the lights of Nahant Bay sparkle on the water's surface in a myriad of colors. She smiles and offers up the wine bottle, "Happy birthday, Maura."

 

"Thank you, Jane," the blonde replies, dipping her head shyly.

 

They clink bottle necks and drink heartily. Jane watches in her periphery, trying not to laugh as Maura chugs and then grimaces.

 

"I've never tasted anything quite like this," the blonde exclaims, sucking in air through her teeth as the copious house red burns in her belly.

 

It seems to do the trick, Jane thinks, in loosening up the previously serious woman but certainly it's nowhere near the quality Maura's palate is probably used to.

 

"It's good stuff," Jane chuckles, leaning her elbows on the rail and staring out at the illuminated waves. "It sure is pretty, isn't it?

 

Maura pushes up next to her, bare arms touching from shoulder to elbow, leaving no room between them. Her voice is quiet, reluctant, as she stares down into the water. "May I ask you a question?" 

 

"Sure," Jane replies, heart beating out of her chest at the possibilities.

 

"Why don't you talk about your brothers?"

 

Any guess she might have made about Maura's inquiry would have been laughably wide of the mark. She isn't expecting this and it throws her so off balance that tears well up before she can prevent it.

 

"I'm sorry," Maura breathes, entwining her fingers with Jane's. "I didn't mean to upset -"

 

"No," Jane murmurs. "It's okay." She's been silently promising Maura the truth anyway, albeit not this particular truth, but what the hell...

 

"How did you -?"

 

"Your mother mentioned them when we were talking about the boys," Maura smiles easily. It had come as a surprise to hear Angela talk about her own boys when the subject of children was being discussed. Jane seemed in a suitable mood to broach the subject but now she was regretting her clumsy approach.

 

"I'm the oldest. Frankie is the middle child. We see him on occasion. He's helped me out with the plumbing business, too, here and there. He works in the city mostly so his visits aren't as often as he'd like. He's a good guy. There's really not much to tell... We get on okay, used to be really close but life just got in the way..." She throws a serious look at Maura, "No skeletons in the closet there, if that's what you're thinking?"

 

Jane lets out a sigh when Maura shakes her head, indicating no such suspicions. But then, "And Tommy?"

 

"Wow," Jane laughs. "How long were you talking to my mother exactly? She didn't leave anything out, did she!" She's grateful when Maura joins in with a quiet laugh of her own. She doesn't get away with avoiding an answer though when Maura's hip bumps her own and she's faced with a concerned look.

 

Taking a deep breath, she looks back out to sea and, for the first time in a very long time just lets it all out. "Tommy is the youngest. He's at Framingham Correctional Facility serving twenty-five to life for attempted murder." That gets a quiet gasp from Maura but she ignores it.

 

"When Pop did a runner he left us with a mountain of debt and everything went to shit. Ma had been outta work for so long raising the family that no one would give her a chance. The boys were too young to go quitting school and the feeling was I could earn more money taking up the existing family business than we would have coming in if I was a beat cop."

 

"You still could have graduated from the Academy, Jane. Your work ethic is excep-"

 

"I did," she jumps in, head nodding slowly and pride lifting her lips into a small smile. "I graduated. But I gave it all up for Rizzoli & Sons." The business name still sticks in her throat even now and she sighs heavily. "When Tommy was ready he got his plumber's apprenticeship and certification and for a while we made a really great team."

 

Jane's hand is still linked with Maura's and when she squeezes it, holding on tight, the blonde welcomes it.

 

"We were doing really well and started working separate jobs in order to get more done. I went alone to a job he mentioned for a friend of his that was doing up an empty house." She rolls her eyes, "Turns out he wasn't a friend, so much as a friend of a friend of a dodgy acquaintance."

 

There was another squeeze and Maura sensed that Jane was struggling. She cupped her free hand over the top of the one she was holding, rubbing her thumb across chilled knuckles as she turned her body into Jane's side.

 

"I didn't get any plumbing done that day. He took one look at me and I knew... knew I was in trouble. I'd gone in without my toolbelt or else I'd have whacked him with a wrench or something, but... to this day I don't know if it would have mattered, he was so strong." Her head drops to her chest and she rushes out the most difficult words as she wrings her hands, thumbs twisting, finding the scars on her palms.

 

The hand that is now running slowly up and down her back feels good, like it's keeping her upright.

 

"He overpowered me, pinned me to the floor, pointed a revolver at my forehead. The neighbor's heard me screaming, that's the only reason I got out of there. Tommy blamed himself, tracked the guy down afterwards and ran him down at a cross walk, put him in the hospital, almost sent him to the morgue. Everything was mostly shit again after he got locked up..." Tears are streaming silently down Maura's face as Jane breathes deeply. Looking back to her wife, she cups her face with both hands and uses her thumbs to wipe her tears. The blonde's smile is brighter than the moon as Jane adds quietly, "It got better when my family came along."

 

Maura's eyes close and she presses her cheek further into Jane's palm.

 

"Being poor wasn't part of the plan but here we are," Jane shrugs, trying to lighten the mood with a flippant comment.

 

The entire story has sobered Maura completely. She's shocked and horrified and strangely grateful in equal measure. She wishes such terrible things had never happened to a good person with so much potential such as her wife, but she knows, too, that without her experiences Jane wouldn't be the person she is today. The blonde is glad she asked the question now. Relieved and with many of the blanks filled in she's able to reconcile the feelings that have developed for the beautiful, selfless woman and what she has survived.

 

Taking a deep breath of her own, Maura offers, "You passed up your dreams because you had to. You didn't give up or quit, you just took another path because you thought it was the right thing to do. I can understand that."

 

There's a deep seated sadness in Maura's eyes that rocks Jane. "You can?" It almost isn't a question, more of a revelation. The brunette looks on in wonder as layers of Mrs. Fairfield she thought non-existent seem to peel away. She's fascinated and scared in case Maura's memories return. 

 

"Yes, I- I have this feeling... I can't explain it." The blonde doesn't imagine she had aspirations only to be a housewife and mother of four. There must have been something else there in the beginning, when she herself was young enough to dream. Certainty doesn't come easily to her without the memories to back it up but her words are sure and she hopes Jane believes them as much as she does.

 

"I know you said you made the choice, but it was also out of your control in many ways and that's a very difficult position to be in. Sometimes people change who they are to fit the situation, it's a survival tactic. You're fortunate that it worked out pretty well, Jane. We all are. You've adjusted and not let it change you deep down." She chuckles at her next thought as Jane's widening eyes and knowing smile go unnoticed. "I bet that kind of sacrifice would make some people very bitter."

 

There's a stillness, as each woman leans on the railing just looking at the other. The quiet is broken by the blasting horn of a boat moving through the harbor.

 

“Why do they honk three times?" Maura asks.

 

"To signal they're comin' home," Jane supplies, not missing a beat. 

 

Maura's eyebrows lift, "Oh?"

 

"Yeah, it's the legend of Arturo, a Portuguese fisherman. He met this beautiful girl his first night in town, Catarina. And, um, eventually they fell in love. But Catarina's father was a territorial governor and he didn't want his little girl to be with a lowly fisherman. So he told Arturo that he'd have to ship off, which he did, but he told Catarina he'd be back for her and when he came back, he'd signal with three long blasts so she knew to dive off the rocks and swim to the boat, and they'd be on their way."

 

"Oh, I love this story," Maura breathes, pressing her palms over her heart.

 

"So, a year later, everything went as planned. But when she was swimmin' out to the boat, the fog got so thick that, uh, she couldn't find the boat. Arturo panicked and he called out "Catarina! Catarina!" Catarina yelled back "Arturo!" With that, he dove right off the boat into the icy waters, and they -"

 

"Kissed?" Maura sighs dreamily. 

 

"No, they drowned," Jane deadpans. "They never found each other and they drowned."

 

Face falling dramatically, Maura drops her hands, swatting at Jane for good measure, "Oh, that's a terrible story!"

 

Jane leans away with a chuckle before pointing out to a rocky outcropping, "Yeah, but the legend is they reunited at the bottom of the sea, right over there, and every time you see the spray goin' up, it's them -"

 

"Making love?"

 

The way Maura breathes the words while looking unabashedly into dark eyes shoots fire straight to Jane's groin. "Yeah," she whispers shakily, pulling the blonde to her and wrapping her in long arms. "Forever and ever."

 

They sway, bodies pressed together and no space in between.

 

Maura's head rests on Jane's chest, arms clinging to strong shoulders as the brunette slow dances them across the deck. Her heart pumps twice for every bass beat of the music she can hear still playing inside. She doesn't seem to have a choice anymore, no matter what her brain says her heart does what it wants. And it wants Maura.

 

Slowing to a stop, Jane lifts Maura's chin with a finger. Their lips find each other instantly and the moaning sound Maura makes as she eagerly responds has Jane glad there's another person holding her up.

 

A pale hand sinks into dark curls, causing a shiver as it caresses an ear on its way, and suddenly all thoughts of ever turning Maura loose are gone. Pink lips make way for Jane's tongue and she thinks it'd be impossible to fall any harder. She needs more of this woman.

 

Backing Maura up to the railing, everything that was slow and sensual about their kisses is becoming faster and more demanding by the second. There are hands stroking and squeezing her ass, pulling her, encouraging her and Jane welcomes the parting of Maura's thighs by sliding her leg in between. She presses, dropping lower for a second before slowly rising. The motion is exquisite, but their languid, wet kiss is broken by a sharp gasp from Maura. 

 

"Jane?"

 

Her hips still for the most part but not completely as they greedily breathe each other in. 

 

"What, Maura?" Jane whispers, resting their foreheads together. 

 

The blonde swallows, gulping down equal amounts arousal and nervousness. She wants her wife, god does she want her, but she needs them get out of here, before the throbbing between her legs develops into something that will get them into trouble in a very public place.

 

"Take me home."


	14. Chapter 14

In the darkness, Jane is already trying to remove Maura’s sleeveless blouse when she uses her foot to close the bedroom door. Her lips follow Maura, her whole body pitching forward as the blonde backs toward the bed, fingers busy trying to divest Jane of her trousers.

 

She doesn’t know when Maura acquired the very fitted and revealing skirt she wears but the patterned material seems familiar. Regardless, she’s grateful that only a zipper stands between them and the bare closeness she craves once the blouse is gone.

 

Shucking off her own shirt without undoing the buttons, Jane stands, trousers around her ankles, breathing hard as Maura reclines, slinking up the mattress like a lioness.

 

Licking her lips like the brunette is the only meal she’s been offered in a month, Maura’s blatant hunger sends a shiver down Jane’s spine. She doesn’t wait to follow, kicking trousers from her feet before planting her hands and knees on the mattress and moving to hover over her wife.

 

Moans fill the room as lips and bodies meet.

 

Hands roam for long minutes, caressing every inch of hot skin, pinching and rolling sensitive nipples, tickling erogenous zones with their light and gentle touch.

 

When Jane’s fingers reach Maura’s hips she doesn’t think twice about removing the woman’s underwear.

 

Neither of them wants to wait any longer, the journey home was torture enough, and so they part just enough to strip before reuniting in a loud exhale of pleasure.

 

Parting the blonde’s legs with one of her own, Jane cups a cheek with her hand and stares deep into Maura’s eyes. They’re both right there, back at the railing, aroused and wanting once more like no time has passed.

 

Dark eyes close as Maura lifts her head to kiss her passionately. The sheer chemistry between them is almost flammable and Jane can’t help but wonder if it would have existed between herself and Mrs. Fairfield under different circumstances. Maybe it did, she reflects, right from the beginning.

 

Pushing her hips forward, Jane groans as her wetness allows a delectable slide of her throbbing sex along Maura’s thigh. It is second only to feeling the blonde’s moist arousal in return. Her climax is fast approaching and there’s nothing she can do, wants to do, to slow it down.

 

After so long alone, and much longer feeling alone despite having a partner, the temptation to rush to the finish line is too strong. Maura doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, the blonde is encouraging every move, every touch, and her breathy moans do nothing but spur Jane on and dissolve her from the inside out.

 

“God, Jane. Nnngh.”

 

Nudging her hips to the side, forcing Maura’s thighs further apart, Jane drags her sex directly over the blonde’s swollen clit.

 

“Oh…” Maura throws her head back, hands grabbing at Jane’s ass to keep her in place.

 

Jane remembers having a similar reaction during her first experience, the feeling so exquisite, so intimate it rocked her to her core. She wonders if that is what it’s like for Maura now. Is this her first time with a woman? Does she even know her own sexuality, or just what Jane has told her? She hates herself for never considering it.

 

Maura has voiced no objection, made no mention of first times or inexperience, and seems to know precisely what she’s doing if the tilt of her pelvis and the sting of her fingernails is any indication.

 

“Mmm, _fuck_!” Jane quivers, “Don’t stop.”

 

Fingers dig into Jane’s ass once more, anchoring them together, clit to throbbing wet clit.

 

The faster they move against one another the better it feels, the beginnings of their orgasm spreading like tendrils through their abdomens and down, filling their swollen pussies with anticipation.

 

“Ah, oh. I’m-ohh god- coming…”

 

Maura crests first, bucking erratically beneath the brunette as her orgasm washes over her, her clit throbbing and the muscles of her vagina clenching over and over again. Arms wrap around Jane, squeezing and pulling the brunette down, claiming the entirety of her body for the blonde’s own.

 

Languid wet kisses resume, tongues caressing for several moments until foreheads meet.

 

Breathing heavily, Maura’s hands encourage movements that the brunette has yet to cease. Stroking her palms, being gentle on red flesh where her nails had scraped and bitten, she rocks Jane’s ass, willing her to finish.

 

“Keep going,” she whispers in between more kisses. “Keep going, keep going.”

 

Jane moans thickly, “Maura…” Pushing up onto her hands, she gets a bird’s eye view of the woman below and it nearly floors her.

 

Her full breasts are ripe and luscious, her hair wild, skin pink with heat, beautiful lips swollen. She mouths the words over and over even as no sound finds Jane’s ears, eyes alight with desire as Jane moves above her.

 

It pushes Jane and almost a second before she expects it her climax blooms within, spreading trembling, burning fire through her sex and her muscles. She’s still twitching deep within as her upper body lowers back into Maura’s arms, breathing hard and muttering ‘oh my god’.

 

oOo

 

Stroking a hand up and down Jane's back, fingers finding every dip and rise of a long spine, Maura sighs contentedly. "Jane?"

 

Lifting her head, Jane props up on an elbow before sweeping the hair that blocks her view of the woman below over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

 

"Was it always like this? the blonde asks timidly, the fingers of her other hand sweeping over a pronounced and sweaty clavicle as her eyes flick downward and back again. 

 

Jane's breath leaves her in a rush as wetness suddenly gathers in her eyes. Nothing's ever been like this.

 

She leans down enough to rub her nose against Maura's before the running the pads of her fingers along soft lips. When Maura slowly uses her tongue to taste the digits before raising her head slightly to take them into her mouth, all the while holding eye contact, Jane's clit starts to throb all over again. "Every time with you is like the first time," she whispers reverently.

 

Sensitive and over stimulated, the brunette is aware of every naked square inch of skin that is currently touching her wife. It's not enough.  Pushing up off her elbow, she makes to move atop the blonde once more but Maura's hand presses at her shoulder.

 

On her back, Jane finds being covered by Maura's body is just as equally satisfying, skin to skin from head to toe.

 

She's ruined everything now, feels it even as Maura's thigh slips in between her legs. The possibility of Maura not hating her once she finds out what she's done is so negligible that refusing or ignoring this, whatever it is between them now, would make her even more of an idiot than she already is.

 

Any thoughts of consequences flee as lips meet and tongues resume their slow caressing dance. She fills her hands, grabbing Maura's firm ass, squeezing, pushing, pulling, increasing the pressure of the blonde's movements, reveling in the pleasure that spreads through her sex.

 

Maura’s upper body starts to rise, trying to lean up on her hands to gain more leverage, but she’s guided down again by Jane’s hand on her back.

 

She wants them to move together, needs the feel of full, soft breasts pressed against hers, for Maura's abdomen to sweep her own every time muscles ripple in time with the gentle back and forth of her pelvis. 

 

Keeping her raging desire under control isn't easy, but now isn't the time for hard and fast, no matter how fucking good she knows it would be. Jane cares too much to disrespect their first time together even if it’s not their first orgasm. It's too much to expect that there'll be a second time, since there's no telling when this surreal dream might end, so for now making love even once with this beautiful woman is enough. It's far more than she deserves.

 

Maura's pace starts to increase as her shallow, panting breaths wash over Jane's face. Fingers travel the length of Jane’s inner thigh before casually diving into wetness and the brunette's shoulder blades dig into the mattress as her back arches off the bed. 

 

There's no teasing, but Maura's slow, slow push inside is agonizing all the same. Time stops as Jane relishes the journey of Maura's fingers, before they curl and press, so firmly that it makes her knees lock and her toes spread. Teeth dig into her bottom lip and she moans, repeatedly with every subsequent pump of divine internal pressure.

 

Nothing's ever felt better or more right and she wants to share it, to fall together. Spreading her legs to make room for her own hand, she seeks the same wetness for her own fingers. When they find it and slide gently deep inside, Maura hums liquid pleasure against her mouth. 

 

When she comes, hard, she's quiet, quieter than Maura and quieter than the last time. Threatened by a lump in her throat, it is only fear of the dam breaking that stops her from crying out and ultimately from crying, overcome with emotion. But it's that second orgasm that somehow makes her feel more womanly than ever before. Under Maura's hands, her hard angles feel smoother, her flesh feels filled out, her biting wit diluted and her resolute independence shattered.

 

She doesn't want to be one anymore, not when there can be two. 

 

oOo

 

Closing the bedroom door as quietly as she can manage, Jane tiptoes through the room in her sports bra and panties and sneaks back into bed. Settling underneath the comforter, she wraps herself around the warm, naked body next to her and closes her eyes.

 

Maura stirs, inhaling deeply and covering the hand that heats her abdomen. She smiles as a nose nuzzles behind her ear, feelings from last night rushing back in a torrent of sparks that alight between her legs. 

 

When a loud knock comes at the door, Jane pulls the woman to her even more tightly. "Oh, come on, guys! Hey, let us sleep for a while!" she groans, but the knocks are persistent.

 

Throwing back the covers she leaps out of bed. "Right, that's it! I'm gonna spank 'em."

 

Maura sits up, clutching the comforter to her chest as the brunette stalks to the door. "No! Jane, please don't."

 

"Every one of them's gonna get it!" she threatens, flinging the door open to reveal four grinning boys and a gleaming white appliance.

 

"Surprise!" they yell in unison, firing party poppers into the room. 

 

Gasping, the blonde looks to her wife in wonder. "A new washing machine?!"

 

"Do you like it?" Jane smiles nervously, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

 

Maura's hand strokes Jane's bare knee as she nods. Anything that means she doesn't have to fight with the clunky relic in the shed makes her immensely grateful. "But, honey, it's so expensive," she breathes. 

 

The boys are still bouncing excitedly in place, watching the last of the confetti flutter to the ground. There's a collective snort and some shoulder bumping as they laugh uproariously at Jane's exclamation.

 

"No shit!"

 

Still holding up the comforter in one hand, Maura scoots closer, leaning in for a kiss that Jane returns eagerly. "Thank you," she mumbles against moving lips.

 

Stretching her upper body, Jane plants both hands on the mattress and leans forward, following the blonde as she reclines back to the bed.

 

The younger boys' eyes are widened by the mushy scene but Travis screws up his face, "Ew!"

 

The solution Jane finds is a simple one, swinging one of her long legs off the side of bed, she catches the edge of the open door with her foot and it closes with a resounding slam. She wastes no time in pulling the lower half of her body squarely onto the bed where she covers her lover in tanned limbs and wet kisses. 

 

oOo

 

Picking up the cabin phone is the responsibility of the crew and regardless of how ridiculously occupied he keeps them, he thinks one of them would have relieved him of its incessant ringing eventually.

 

It takes barely a word to have him kicking himself for lifting the handset. He's made a huge error in judgment.

 

"Garrett?"  His mother-in-law's clipped British tone is unmistakable.

 

"Constance. Hello," he gushes. 

 

"This is ludicrous, Garrett," she barks down the line. "I have called every week for two months!"

 

"I've looked forward to each call," he lies, having taken precisely none. 

 

Her voice is low and threatening, the words ground out through her teeth, "Do you have the gall to tell me that I've missed her again?"

 

"She's sleeping."

 

"I don't believe you, Garrett," she shouts, emphasizing every word more than the last, anger and volume rising. "If you do not produce Maura in _one week_ , I am going to hire a mass of Albanian mercenaries to hunt you down and chop off the protruding parts of your body. Is that clear?"

 

"I'll find her," he blurts, panicking. "I mean, you'll have your daughter soon. Bye!" Slamming the phone down, he rubs the back of his back with a trembling hand. It's barely two seconds later when he uses the intercom to contact the bridge. "Captain! Point the boat back toward Swampscott."

 

He tries to compose himself but dread has already set in. His blood feels chilly and his heart pounds in his chest. He's always liked a bet and knows the odds are good he's in for a visit. He just hopes he can find his wife before Constance arrives. 


	15. Chapter 15

Charlie’s high five is so energetic is stings a little, even so she wants more of them, wants to be the cool mom, like Jane; effortlessly down with the kids.

 

His contraption works perfectly, just like she knew it would once they rounded up the scrap and tools they needed, but to see the look on his face is magic. Love pumps so forcefully through her veins she wonders if this is what it feels like to take some kind of drug.

 

It isn’t the first invention she’s helped him put together but it is the most ambitious so far. Involving a gasoline powered machine was a risk but one she was willing to take in order to experience this moment right here, and of course she had some strict safety protocols he had to follow during the assembly.

 

“Wow.” His little face is agog, dark eyes twinkling, head swishing back and forth between the lawnmower and her face and back again.

 

Trundling in circles around the lawn, the mower with its central pole and reel of winding rope attached to the handle, make just the latest in a long string of ideas he’s had that seem to make mundane, potentially unpleasant chores a breeze. He’s on to something, she muses.

 

Hook it to the line, start the engine, and let it go. Simplicity. She marvels at the minds of children, how differently they see the world. It is wonderful.

 

The self-propelled mower continues on its spiral path, cutting a large neat circle into the messy grass and Maura thinks they should all play outside on the grass tomorrow. Maybe make a picnic for dinner.

 

“Can we read my new comic now?” Johnny whines from the back door.

 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she replies, patting Charlie on the shoulder as she turns to leave. “You’ll keep your eye on it and notify me when it’s nearly done?”

 

“Yes, Mom,” he nods dutifully.

 

The smile never leaves her face as she enters the house and settles into an armchair. Johnny plops comfortably onto her lap and the two begin their own well versed routine.

 

Her evenings could be called dull, monotonous; the same activities on repeat, a formulaic grind that she supposes might wear on most moms. But she considers herself a lot less ordinary. She likes the order, likes the comfort of knowing her children are happy, likes being involved in each of their unique interests and that they share in them with her.

 

She likes it all. No… She loves it.

 

“Just the one story tonight, okay?” she purrs, running her fingers through Johnny’s soft, dark hair. “We have a big day tomorrow and you need to take a bath before bed.”

 

“Can we read more Dr. Death tomorrow night?” he asks, lips turned down she assumes for the purposes of softening her up.

 

It’s unnecessary. She’s a sucker for this little boy every minute of every day. “Yes we can.”

 

“Promise?” he whispers.

 

“Tomorrow,” she nods, pecking a kiss to the end of his nose. “I promise.” 

 

oOo

 

Maura sits the boys down on the couch before moving across the room to take one last look at herself in the mirror. "Sit there please and don't get dirty!"

 

Charlie pulls at his shirt collar. "I hate this."

 

"It's not so bad to get dressed up every once in a while," says Andy, straightening his little bow tie. 

 

"It's like the goddamn Brady Bunch!" Travis grumbles as Maura disappears into the bathroom.

 

Jumping up and down on the cushions, Johnny spies Jane's truck pulling into the driveway through the window. "Ma's here!"

 

"Mom, Ma's home!" Travis yells, drawing the blonde back into the room as she finishes putting in her earrings. 

 

Bounding into the house, Jane greets them all but her eyes lock onto the beautiful woman standing a short distance away. "Hey, guys!" With a grin she closes the distance, sweeping Maura into a hug before pecking her on the lips. "I gotta go put on a suit."

 

As the brunette moves away, disappearing into the bedroom, Maura notices Barry in the doorway. He shucks a thumb over his shoulder. "Neda's picking me up."

 

"Ah," she nods, happy to know their plans won't be scuppered by him hitching a ride to their home. She still can't believe he won't be joining them, today of all days, he certainly is dressed for it, looking the sharpest she's seen him in a suit and tie. "How can you go to work on such an important day?"

 

"Easy," he chuckles, flashing his trademark blinding smile. "Cyber criminals don't play miniature golf."

 

"Hunting hackers is like his number one hobby, sweetie," Jane winks, exiting the bedroom as she zips up her trousers. 

 

The brunette has teased her friend on several occasions about his 'playing with computers' not being _real_ work because he's enjoys it so much. She's happy to recognize and understand the reference, she's forming new memories and it warms her insides. "The ceremonies start in an hour," she informs, receiving a nod from Jane as the woman finishes buttoning a shirt over her standard white vest.

 

"I lent the car to Neda so we have to take the truck," Maura adds, getting another distracted nod from her wife as she tucks in her shirt. 

 

"Okay, sweetie, I'll be ready... in a second," Jane calls as the blonde heads for the front door, snagging a trash bag from the kitchen en route.

 

In the driveway, Maura curses the beaten old truck.

 

They'd be much better off with something nicer, a vehicle that fits their large family more comfortably and that doesn't carry the risk of leaving rust stains on her clothing. The car she drives is as equally unsuitable, it's only saving grace the fact that there are usually only five occupants and she makes an effort to keep it clean. Their first family outing to the park had opened her eyes to Jane's predilection for not disposing of the mess that she generates on a daily basis, finding it rolling around her feet in the footwell during the journey.

 

She takes it upon herself to make sure that will not be happening today. 

 

Hinges creak as she opens the passenger side door. "God! What a mess," she breathes, picking empty takeout coffee cups and fast food wrappers off the seats. A breeze picks up, blowing through the vehicle and she spits, wafting a hand in front of her face as white feathers become airborne. "Ugh!" Her face screws up as she considers the poor poultry meal they'd once had that likely explains their presence. 

 

Swiping crumbs off the seats, she only notices Jane's insurance card as it flutters into the footwell. Bending to retrieve it, she intends to stuff it in the glovebox where it belongs, but once the compartment is open all thoughts of clearing trash are forgotten. Certain that Jane owns nothing purple and most definitely nothing made of frilly lace Maura withdraws, removing the item for inspection.

 

Her shocked gasp sounds across the driveway as the nature of the item becomes painfully clear. 

 

oOo

 

Jane stands over the bathroom sink, eyes closed tight, washing soap from her face. Maura's heels are easily identifiable as they approach, stalking up behind her. "Honey, would you hand me a towel please?" she asks, reaching out an expectant hand that is quickly filled with soft fabric. Drying her face, Jane's fingers fumble with the limited amount of material and she stands, opening her eyes, eyebrows instantly lifting in horror. "What... What is this?"

 

She knows exactly what it is as adrenaline dumps into her bloodstream, heart pounding and fingers trembling. 

 

When she looks up, Maura is standing with her hands firmly planted on cocked hips, a thunderous scowl on her face. "That's my question. They were in the truck."

 

"These are... I dunno what these are. I... Who... Here," she stammers, shoving the panties back into Maura's hands as she rushes past, fleeing through the lounge and into the bedroom. "I, uh, we gotta get going. We're gonna be late. Thanks for putting my clothes on the bed."

 

"Oh, stop it!" Maura scolds, following closely behind. 

 

Pointing at the purple lace hanging from Maura's fingers, Jane scoffs, "This is nothing!"

 

"Nothing?!" Maura shrieks, jabbing herself in the chest with a index finger before leveling it angrily at her wife. "I gave you the best years of my life. I've raised your children. We came together four times last night and you tell me this is nothing?"

 

"You're making a big deal out of a tiny little thing," Jane dismisses as she frees her mane from a hair tie and shakes it out with her fingers. 

 

"Infidelity is the number one cause of divorce in this country," Maura states firmly, practically stomping her foot. "More than sixty thousand couples per year -"

 

"Divorce? What are you saying?" Jane jumps in, her body sagging until she sits on the edge of the bed before she mutters, eyes sweeping the comforter, "Where's my jacket?"

 

Anger rising, the blonde bites impatiently, "You know precisely what I'm saying."

 

Jane throws her hands up, letting them fall to slap her thighs, her face all jumping eyebrows and attitude, "You're saying what, you wanna divorce?"

 

Maura still has one hand on a lithe hip, defiant, as she juts her chin into the air. "Well... yes, maybe I do!"

 

"Well, you can't have one," Jane states simply with a shrug. 

 

Switching her weight, Maura crosses her arms across her chest and lets out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, really. I can't have a divorce?"

 

"Where did I put my damn boots?"

 

"I can get a divorce if I want to," she repeats, watching Jane search under the bed for the last of her outfit. "I don't need your permission." Jane doesn't respond, just sits back on the bed and shoves her feet into her boots. Her shoulders are hunched and she's shaking her head but she doesn't speak. 

 

"Do you love her?" Maura croaks tearily, her eyes on the floor until she hears Jane let out a sigh. "Do you? Tell me."

 

The way the blonde whispers it tears at Jane's heart worse than if she'd yelled. "Honestly?" she replies, just as softly, eyes flicking up to meet watery hazel. "Yes and no."

 

A tear rolls down Maura's cheek as she stifles a sob. "More yes than no?"

 

Jane lets her head fall back to her chest, hating herself, hating the realization that the time has finally come. Maura Fairfield needs to be set free. "Ye - This is unbelievable! How did you...?! I'm glad this happened. I've been tryin' to figure out a way to tell you this forever." Standing quickly, the brunette grasps the blonde's shoulders and switches their positions. "Come here. Sit down. I wanna tell you something." Taking the underwear out of Maura's hand, she holds them out, monogrammed letters clearly visible and explains in one long unbroken breath, "MF is you. These are yours and we're not married. There. God, I finally said it!"

 

Dark eyebrows lift again as Maura sniffles and snarks, "What's her name? Molly? Marie?"

 

Leaning down, Jane plants her hands on Maura shoulders once more, holding her gaze and willing the woman to listen, "Honey, I'm _not_ your wife, _you_ are not my wife."

 

"Is she from that fertilizer plant? Does she hand out shovels?"

 

Growling, Jane backs up to the bedroom doorway, flinging her arm out into the lounge as she raises her voice, "These aren't your kids!"

 

"Don't change the subject!" Maura shouts, red coloring her face as her tears turn to venom, "Who is she?!"

 

"Forget it!" Jane spits, grabbing Maura’s hands and dragging her out into the living area to sit among their waiting children. "Come here! Guys, we gotta talk and this is serious."

 

Johnny's face lights up at the sight of his favorite blonde. "Mom, we're still all clean!"

 

None of the boys acknowledge Jane's scowl or that Maura seems to have been crying as they sit all prom and proper.

 

"I just told her about her not being your other mother and I want you to tell her, too. Go ahead, tell her."

 

"Tell her what, Ma?" Andy cocks his head to the side, exuding youthful innocence enough to make Jane bite the inside of her mouth. 

 

"Tell her she's not your mother," she grinds out. 

 

"But she is our mother!"

 

"No," Jane sighs, eyes closing for a long moment as she breathes, summoning patience with every ounce of her being. "Don't tell her what I _told_ you to tell her. Just tell her the truth now, okay? Tell her about the day she came home!"

 

"She went for a swim. We were really worried. I was up all night pacing." Andy's face is a picture of worry and his brothers are trying their best to match it. 

 

She has to hand it to him, since Maura started making dress up costumes for him to put on his own plays in the backyard, his theater skills have come on leaps and bounds. If she weren't in this predicament right now his little act would be very impressive. 

 

The brunette is all smiles and nods for two seconds as the childrens' ploy becomes clear. The irony is highly amusing. But five pairs of eyes go wide with shock as Jane suddenly yells, "You'd never seen her before in your life!"

 

Maura stands, pointing her finger right in Jane's flushed face before storming out the front door. "Do _not_ speak to my children that way!"

 

When the door slams and Jane notices Barry has also made himself scarce during their argument, she leans down to her kids, hands on her knees and her voice low, "What do you think you're doing?"

 

"We won't let you _ruin_  everything," explains Charlie. 

 

"We're keepin' her," Travis states, very matter of fact, arms folded across his chest not unlike Maura. 

 

The brunette can't believe what she's hearing. "She doesn't belong to you!"

 

"She didn't belong to you either, but that didn't stop you!"

 

Arms folded across her own chest, Jane straightens, towering over her offspring. "I had my reasons!" she snips, raising an eyebrow.

 

"So do we," Travis answers, matching her gesture of challenge, not backing down. 

 

Johnny uses his Pee Wee voice to cut in, "We like her, Ma!"

 

"You like her, do you?" Immaturity and sarcasm seeping from every word, every gesture, Jane stomps across the lounge and out the front door. "Bet you'd rather live with her than your own flesh and blood!"

 

oOo

 

"You found 'em in the glove compartment?" Barry squeaks, nervous and fidgeting at being confronted by Maura without warning. 

 

The blonde's demeanor demands compliance, even if they have become fast friends. She hands him the purple panties, pointing out the embroidered initials. "Yeah. Tell me every sordid detail. Who is MF and what does she have to do with Jane?"

 

"Maura..."

 

"Tell me everything," she sighs heavily, her head drooping in resignation. "Be honest with me."

 

An idea blooms. He’s had Jane’s back all her life and now is no different. "Maura, uh... That's my underwear."

 

"What?"

 

Realizing his mistake, he waves his hands in the air wanting to clarify. "I don't mean I wear it or anything. It belongs to a girlfriend."

 

Confused, Maura asks, "What about Neda?"

 

"I strayed," he replies sheepishly, unable to meet her eyes. "I got lucky with this phone-sex girl one night and I don't have a back seat in my truck so I... I used yours. Jane doesn't want you to tell Neda, so she's covering for me." Looking up he finds Maura looking surprisingly sympathetic and Jane quickly approaching from behind her shoulder looking livid. 

 

Once level with the blonde, Jane juts her chin at her friend, suspicious, "What are you talking about?"

 

"I confessed," he says lightly, adding a sad little chuckle of surrender for Maura's benefit. "The jig is up."

 

"The jig  _is_  up!" Jane snaps, narrowing her eyes at him and pointing a finger at Maura, "I'm finally trying to tell her the truth."

 

Shaking his head, Barry follows through, mowing the brunette down with his directness and his amazingly straight face. "I just did. Maura, I'm sorry. I got horny. Do you hate me?"

 

"Oh, no, I don't hate you," she swoons, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm glad you're honest, Barry Frost."

 

He finally breaks into a huge smile, throwing it at Jane over Maura's shoulder, earning himself a Rizzoli foot stomp and two clenched fists.

 

"Biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," Jane barks before turning the blonde away from Barry, trying to get her to listen again. "Honey, honey. Phone sex girls don't come to your truck, honey. They -"

 

Her words stop abruptly when Maura cups her face lovingly. "No, stop trying to cover for him, sweetie. Let's just forget it." She plants a firm kiss on Jane's lips before turning and handing the purple thong back to Barry. "Pretty expensive panties,” she winks, “You can have these back."

 

As the blonde walks back into the house, Barry wiggles his eyebrows and grins at Jane. "Pretty good, huh?"

 

Swatting hard at the man's upper arm, Jane hisses, "You did this to protect your ass because you faked my pictures?"

 

"No, I did it to protect _your_  ass," he says, taking a step toward her, his face serious once more. He hopes the finger jab into her chest gets his point across. "You _belong_ with her... and you _know_ it."


	16. Chapter 16

Nestled among the eighteen hole miniature golf course is a bandstand, a huge white gazebo decked out in bunting and ribbons of all colors. It doesn't mark the start of the course, separating instead the first nine holes from the second, making a feature of an expanse of landscaped gardens that wind and encircle the majority of the concession stands and rest area. It is the perfect place for the ribbon cutting ceremony of this Grand Opening.

 

Standing nervously behind a temporary lectern, Jane leans down to the microphone. She keeps her eyes low, having already panicked at the sight of the entire town gathered down in front. "I really don't have anything to say except that, uh... there would be no Wonders of the World miniature golf course if it wasn't for the imagination and the creativity of one woman. That's my Maura." Turning to her family who stand off to the side flanked by grinning council members and investors, Jane lifts her eyes to the beautiful blonde. "Maura, you wanna come up here?"

 

Maura gets a helpful push from several small hands and she laughs, embarrassed, as Jane moves out from behind the microphone holding a bouquet of flowers.

 

Taking one of the blonde's hands in hers, Jane clears her throat softly and lowers herself down on one knee, generating a hushed gasp from the crowd. One trembling hand holds a ring, a glorious shining symbol of the dreams she's accomplished here today and of the new dreams now filling her heart. "I love you, Maura. I want you to be with me... always."

 

Maura's blonde hair swishes about her face as she shakes her head, unable to speak through a lump of emotion. Pressing a hand to her chest, she sucks in great lungfuls of air as Jane's hopeful eyes gaze up at her, making her skin tingle. With no thought to their onlookers, she leaps into Jane's arms as the brunette stands, nodding frantically as she holds on and buries her face into raven curls. 

 

"I love you so much," she whispers with a tearful hiccup. "I love you, I love you!"

 

As the two women release each other and Jane slips the ring onto Maura's finger, the mayor approaches the front of the bandstand. People whoop and cheer for their friends as he takes an oversized pair of scissors, slicing through the giant ribbon and bellowing out into the park.

 

"Everybody, play ball!"

 

oOo

 

The golf course is huge, taking up far more room than just the waste ground originally planned. Town leaders had no objection once the investors explained the projected summer income and job creation numbers. Jane made sure no harm came to the natural woodland, the existing playing fields or picnic areas. 

 

As the first family to tee off, the Rizzoli boys' excitement is off the charts and the two women chuckle as they follow along, holding hands like love soaked teenagers, laughing at their children’s antics. 

 

At every hole, Maura marvels at the attention to detail, how the crayon drawings seem to have leapt from the page, springing to life in glorious 3-D technicolor. Jane points out every feature, demurring coyly each time Maura praises her skill and ingenuity. The blonde hasn't seen anything during the park's development and her wife liked it that way. Making the final reveal as impactful as possible. 

 

One huge fiberglass statue comprises the main feature of each hole, just as she expects, but the rest is astounding. 

 

Every hole has water in some form; a moat that surrounds it, threatening a trap for your golf ball, or a lazy river of slowly meandering blue that begs for a dip of the toes, or a pond with plants that seamlessly blends it into their green surroundings.  Just the sounds of trickling water amidst the botanicals and rock formations make the whole park feel as if it belongs here, as if Mother Nature carved it herself for this very patch of earth.

 

The gardens in between sprout elaborate fountains, spirals of copper that glint like treasure in the midday sun, spurting water in time to upbeat background music that seems to emanate effortlessly from the rocks and plants themselves.  Jane wishes Barry were here to see the look on Maura's face, to see the effects of his technological know-how and to receive the heaps of praise he rightfully deserves. 

 

For some to call it _just_ a golf course doesn't do it justice.

 

Next to her wife, it’s the most breathtaking thing Maura has ever seen.

 

And fun, too. They spend hours at the park, putting, laughing, splashing, eating. Every second filled with the feeling that life is good. 

 

oOo

 

A black stretched limo is sitting outside the Rizzoli home when the family returns. Jane has never seen it before, but that doesn't stop a volcanic eruption of bile from rising in her throat. It doesn't take a detective to work out who occupies the lavish vehicle and she wishes she could drive straight past, take her wife and their boys and just keep heading off into the sunset. 

 

Maura hasn't spotted it yet, she has her head down, eyes entranced and a sweet smile gracing her lips as the fingers of her right hand play with the ring that graces the third finger of her left. But she's not so lucky with the boys. The excitement coming from the back seat is palpable.

 

"Hey, Ma! Whose car is that?" asks Travis.

 

Charlie bounces up and down on the seat. "Maybe it's a rich relative."

 

"Maybe we won the lottery!" Andy squeals, mirroring his twin.

 

As the truck pulls to a stop in the driveway, Garrett Fairfield exits the limo and Jane's head falls forward. With her eyes closed she maintains her grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she squeezes, wishing with all her might that he wasn't really here. 

 

Maura is quick to jump out, taking her bouquet and bouncing happily up the driveway. She passes the suited man without so much as a second glance. "Hi, Garrett! I just have to put these in some water," she sings, smiling and waving her flowers in the air as she disappears into the house. 

 

His name and Maura's recollection of him is like a red hot dagger to Jane's gut. Pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh, Jane resigns herself to her fate. She orchestrated this very moment. The pain shooting through her chest is entirely self-inflicted.

 

After helping the boys down out of the truck, Jane just stares at the man, waiting. It's like watching an oncoming car crash and she can't turn away. In one split second he has torn apart everything she built, and without even saying a word. Her eyes are stinging and she stops breathing as the front door opens slowly. 

 

Maura hesitates for a moment, holding onto the door for support, before moving down off the porch. With parted lips and face full of wonder, she breathes, "Garrett? Is that you?" Pointing a finger and bouncing excitedly on her tiptoes, she leaves him no time to speak, "Yes. Yes, you're Garrett Fairfield. I remember! I remember. I'm Maura Fairfield." 

 

With her hands on her head as if to stop it from exploding with the sudden revelation, she turns to the brunette, "Ooh! Jane, I'm cured. I can remember again. Oh, God! You can't imagine how terrible it is not to know who you are. The doctor said that my mind would come back suddenly and he was right."

 

Spinning on the spot, she points at Garrett again before gesturing wildly with her hands, "I saw you, I walked past you into the house and poof! My memory came back. Ask me anything. Ask me about my childhood in Europe. About my mother. Her name is Constance LaRoche. About my money. Money! I have money! I have lots of money! I even have some in Switzerland!"

 

"Switzerland?" Travis mutters under his breath, earning him a deadly scowl from his mother. 

 

"See how much I know!" Maura continues to squeal, overjoyed at the restoration of her memories. "Oh, God, this is the happiest day of my life!" Stepping closer to Jane, she grasps the brunette's hands and gushes, "Oh, thank you. Thank you for bringing me here and making me a wife and a mother and..."

 

Suddenly the smile drops off and she takes a step back, dropping Jane's hands as the once twinkling light in her eyes clouds over.

 

There's a quiet gasp from the blonde and Jane dies inside as the last remnants of Maura Rizzoli evaporate before her eyes.

 

"Why did you do that? Why...?" Maura's frown is deep until confusion gives way to understanding. Wagging her finger at Jane, her voice is low and wetness gathers along her lower lids. "I know why. You're that sweaty plumber who hates me. And these are your children, and you made me believe that... Oh, God... You tricked me. You used me."

 

Every softly spoken word, every croak of hurt and of pain in Maura's voice brands a black mark on Jane's heart. Gulping doesn't shift the lump in her throat and she doesn't have the balls to look the woman in the eye. Despicable, that's what she is. Spiteful and dishonest and... hopelessly in love with a woman that never existed.

 

"Say something," Maura growls darkly. 

 

Jane knows nothing she could say would excuse her behavior. "Maura, it just started out -" But the blonde doesn't want a feeble explanation. 

 

"I don't belong with you," she sniffs as a single tear rolls down her face. "And I don't belong with them. I have to... get my things."

 

As Maura turns and runs back into the house, Jane stares down the man still standing on her property. Clearly she makes him uncomfortable because he steps back toward the limo and nods at the burly driver.

 

"Don't get any ideas. I brought Olaf!"

 

"I think you can take Olaf," Travis mumbles out of the side of his mouth, earning him a one-armed hug around his shoulders.

 

She might no longer have a wife, Jane muses, but at least she'll always have her boys. 

 

"There's nothing inside that's mine," Maura informs as she strides back out of the house. Seemingly devoid of all emotion she heads straight for the limo until Jane's gravelly voice draws her attention. 

 

"M-Maura, for what it's worth, thank you."

 

When the blonde doesn't respond, just stands unmoving and stony faced beside the vehicle Garrett yanks her by the wrist and physically hustles her inside. "Come on, dear. We'll get you out of these awful clothes."

 

Wasting no time, Garrett ducks his head and disappears into the car right behind Maura, the vehicle moving off before the door is even fully closed.

 

Jane's breath leaves her constricted chest in a painful rush as her three smallest children sprint from her side, chasing the limo as it passes the end of the driveway.

 

Charlie pounds his fist on the trunk as he begs, "Mom! - Mom, come back!"

 

"Mom, wait! - Mom!" Andy pleads, his little legs pumping frantically as he slaps his palm against Maura's blacked out window.

 

Inside, Maura presses her hand to the glass as she cries. Her already broken heart is torn to shreds when Johnny's tearful voice breaches the ringing in her ears.

 

"You said moms don't leave!"

 

There’ll be no reading practice before bed tonight. She’s breaking her promise and it kills her.

 

Six tired little legs slow to a stop as the vehicle revs and powers away. Jane and Travis watch as they turn, shoulders slumped, sneakers scuffing the asphalt forlornly as they make their way back towards the house. 

 

"We should have told her, Ma."

 

Jane can't face them, can't face what she's done, not just to Maura but to her children, so she turns to walk away. "She just would have left us sooner."

 

oOo

 

Every uniformed crew member is on deck as the blonde boards the yacht docked once again in Nahant Bay.

 

Nobody speaks, least of all Garrett, as she sullenly shuffles past, her mood as dark as the surrounding waters.

 

Heading straight for the cabin, her only desire is to seal herself off, to hole up alone, away from the unsettling looks of these people who stare like she's a circus freak. Solitude, she thinks, is the only way to make sense of this bizarre situation. 

 

Susie is the last in line, opening the cabin door with a smile, the only person brave enough to address the blonde.

 

"Welcome back, Mrs. Fairfield."


	17. Chapter 17

Solitude is the last thing Maura gets when she enters the living quarters to find her mother and her mother's therapist sitting before her in formal evening wear. There's simply no escape from the impromptu cocktail party about to be thrown in honor of her return.

 

Constance permits her the time to bathe and change outfits, insistent on the fact, and so she locks herself in her bedroom and proceeds to do as she's told as leisurely as possible.

 

Even the shower she takes is much more drawn out than usual, the vast rainfall shower head sluicing away the sweat and grime of the day, taking with it her muddied confusion. She sighs long and loud as the massaging jets kick in, pummeling her shoulder blades and lower back, easing the knotted tension and rigidity of lean muscle.

 

Thoroughly clean and somewhat more relaxed, too, she lingers as billowing steam engulfs her, mind wandering. 

 

Thoughts skitter over the details of the past two months, skirting the edges of the exact moment she fell, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. Winding over and around her rescue and recuperation, they land firmly on the conniving plumber who set her trap.

 

Bile rises, acid burning the back of her throat. Apt, she thinks, considering Jane's motive, all revenge and subterfuge and spite. _She must have really hated me._

 

But even then she continues to soak in the fruits of Jane's labor, fingers trailing a path over every nozzle in the shower enclosure, hot water stinging her skin and clinging to her eyelashes as she stares unseeing at the walls.

 

At some point, somewhere in the last two months, things changed.  She changed.

 

As self awareness grew she was no longer a hostage, nor a victim of her amnesia, she was a partner, a mother. Her own person.

 

She can see it now, as sickeningly painful as it is to admit. Jane, for her sins - and there were many - had freed her. A night and day contrast so startlingly clear it can't be ignored even as she wishes it were possible.  Oppression, obedience, stifling conformity, and self obsession versus freedom, happiness, fulfillment, and self worth.

 

And love. Real love. That's in there somewhere, too, tainted and hidden amidst the overbearing shadow of deceit, but she thinks - _knows_ \- she felt it.

 

Burgeoning tears are what finally push her out of the enclosure, into her bedroom, sopping wet and mentally exhausted.

 

Once dry, she stands naked before a full length mirror, soft hands appraising every plane of her body. The physical exertion she underwent running a household has done wonders to her already naturally fit body. Her biceps are rounder, buttocks are firmer, abs more pronounced.  The corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

 

Jane's mark is imprinted on her inside and out. 

 

In the mirror, her eyes catch sight of the corner of the bed behind her and suddenly she's bombarded with the image of Jane sitting there. Sighing, she closes her eyes and presses a hand across her forehead. The cocky, brash, and stubborn woman remains. More infuriating is the knowledge that, despite being all of those things, Jane is also selfless and caring. Funny. Gorgeous.

 

Maura's eyes snap open and she growls, hands clenched into fists by her side. Anger fizzes through her veins, heating her insides. Enough, she tells herself, forcibly calming down as she employs a trusted breathing technique. Enough. It is over. 

 

With her altered blouse and hand-stitched skirt hung up in the closet – macaroni necklace complete with diamond ring pendant swinging from the hanger - she dons a small amount of makeup, just enough to mask the weariness of her features, slicks her hair back into a classy chignon and slips into a sequined gold cocktail dress that was - _is_  - her favorite. It feels a lot like putting on a costume.

 

She just doesn't know if she can play the part anymore.

 

oOo

 

Crystal champagne flute in hand, Constance LaRoche sits opposite her trusted psychiatrist. "Dr. Korman, will Maura ever again be the debutante I raised? Will she be one of us?"

 

Clearing his throat, he confidently addresses the entire cabin that includes Garrett and several crew. "Maura wants to rediscover her old self. Her memory's almost completely restored."

 

"I want my wife back," Garrett states, earning a scowl from his mother-in-law as he downs his champagne much faster than is considered polite.

 

Dr. Korman keeps his voice light, carefree almost, as if the situation will resolve itself despite his presence and despite Constance paying him $500 per hour plus flights. "Maura knows who she is. And she's trying to behave that way."

 

It is in this moment that Maura glides into the room. She is stunning, and trying so very hard to project her old aura of entitlement. No matter how high she holds her chin, though, there’s still a droop to her shoulders, something that weighs her down.

 

Susie is the first to greet her, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Good evening, ma'am."

 

"Ah, my darling Maura," Constance gushes, turning in her seat to appraise her daughter.

 

Sidling up beside the blonde, Garrett slings an arm around her waist and pecks her on the cheek. "You look radiant, baby," he says.

 

"Oh, please don't call me that,” she tuts, leaning her head away from his and twisting out of his grip. “I feel like an infant," she grumbles.

 

"You liked being called baby,” he whines, throwing up his free hand. “It was  _pookie_  you hated."

 

She didn’t respond well to any pet names, if she recalls correctly, but she’s in no mood for an argument and just rolls her eyes as she moves to stand behind Constance. "Mother, why does Dr. Korman have to be here?” she asks, sounding a little pathetic. “I feel self-conscious enough as it is."

 

"Oh, sweetie,” Constance sighs, reaching out to grab Maura by the wrist. The protrusion of her bottom lip is clearly deliberate. “Just indulge your mother, hm?"

 

The blonde sags, resting her weight on her hands on the back of the couch until Constance begins to tug.

 

"Come along, now. Sit, sit, sit," she instructs, putting down her glass long enough to pat the seat cushion beside her.

 

"Dr. Korman knows you so well, dear, and he only wants to help."

 

Both statements are untrue and it makes Maura’s blood silently boil.

 

The psychiatrist had been employed when she was first married, again by her mother, because she was unhappy, ‘inexplicably so’ in her mother’s words. It wasn’t so inexplicable to Maura. It hurt at times, finding herself _trapped_ for want of a better term. Held hostage is how she’d described it on one occasion, though never to the therapist. He really didn’t know her at all. The absence of her backbone all these years when it came to her mother’s wishes is what Maura now finds truly inexplicable.

 

She’s rubbing the skin on the wrist where she can still feel her mother’s iron grip when Susie appears in front holding a tray.

 

"Champagne, ma'am?"

 

Her aide smiles kindly as their eyes meet and she suspects the woman cut in to save her in some way, but a drink does sound wonderful, too. "Thank you, Susie, but I'd love a beer."

 

"A beer?" Constance shrieks.

 

Maura raises an eyebrow as she turns to face her mother. "Is that wrong?"

 

"Nothing is ever wrong,” Dr. Korman cuts in. “Actually, I really don't see the harm in accommodating her wishes, Susie.”

 

She nods and disappears towards the bar in the corner as the therapist loftily waves a very fat cigar in the air.

 

“In fact, why don't we all drink beer?"

 

"Why do I have to have beer?” Garrett snaps, scowling. “Why does everyone try to make me do what I don't want to do?” Both of Maura’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline and stay there as he rails at her, slamming down his empty glass and pointing menacingly. “And why on earth does she need therapy?  I had my nervous breakdown and I didn't have therapy. I've never had therapy!"

 

"Garrett, we are not interested in you right now," Constance growls.

 

If her mother’s eyes could shoot flames, Maura thinks as she rises from her seat, then Garrett would be a smoldering pile of embers on the floor right now. It’s a shame, she decides, that they can’t.

 

Retrieving a tray of hors d’oeuvres from a side table, Maura stoops at Constance’s side. "Mother, would you like some?"

 

"Ooh, I'd love some," Dr. Korman blurts brightly, leaning forward in his chair and waving her over.

 

"Put that down!” Constance shouts, startling her daughter enough that she freezes in place. “Good God, Maura!” she breathes in amazement, “We have servants for that."

 

"Now, really, this is going too far," Garrett adds as he paces back and forth.

 

Dr. Korman removes the cigar from between his teeth. "Maura, what motivated you to rise and go get the serving tray?"

 

"Well, I thought you might be hungry," she replies innocently, a slight shake of the head indicating she has no idea what the fuss is about.

 

"That's excellent," the therapist murmurs, nodding, cogs clearly turning.

 

"What's excellent about it?" Garrett snips.

 

Dr. Korman just shrugs. "I was hungry."

 

It’s unclear if he’s joking or not as a confused Maura observes them talking about her as if she weren’t present.

 

Garrett is very agitated, gesturing wildly and somewhat aggressively between herself and the therapist. "Who cares that you were hungry! She just became a waitress!"

 

"My daughter's a waitress?!" Constance pipes up suddenly, as if she’s been zoned out for a while and is just now catching up.

 

"Hold it," Dr. Korman clips, raising a hand to halt the conversation.

 

Susie approaches Maura with a tray carrying a singular brown bottle where once there were several flutes. "Your beer, ma'am."

 

Placing the lip of the bottle top against the edge of the bar counter, Maura gives her beverage a swift smack, sending the top clattering to the floor as she quickly swigs the ice cold lager. "Mm! Good stuff."

 

Mouths hang open around the cabin, everyone except the psychiatrist speechless at the blonde’s seemingly crude behavior. When Constance looks to him for answers, he shrugs again and whispers. "I'll stay an extra few days." 

 

oOo

 

Barry doesn't knock, just lets himself in. He knows they're home, Jane had said so in her text when he messaged to see how opening day went. But the house is eerily quiet as he looks around. It's not a total surprise that things aren't as they normally would be considering everything Jane had said in her reply. "Where are the boys?" he asks, ambling into the kitchen where Jane appears to be cooking. 

 

The brunette doesn't look up, just flings her free hand in the direction of the back door as she continues to abuse the contents of a pot on the stove with a wooden spoon. "They won't come in," she sighs.

 

Barry closes in, taking a peek over Jane's shoulder at whatever it is seems to be the victim of her frustration. "Shit," he mutters, screwing his face up at the mass of broken crackers swimming in red sauce. "Spaghettio Supreme? I’m not surprised," he chuckles.

 

Jane's response is to dig an elbow into his ribs before he moves away. The stirring and stabbing of her spoon continues as he disappears out back.

 

oOo

 

Ducking inside the shed, Barry finds the boys camped out with flashlights. "What's goin' on?"

 

"We're gettin' Mom back," states Andy. 

 

"We miss her," Johnny adds quietly, his little chin wobbling. 

 

Charlie stands up from their cross legged circle on the floor. "Yeah, she cuts the crusts off the bread."

 

"She doesn't take any of my shit either," Travis says, emphasizing the curse word, making Barry's eyebrows jump. "I need discipline. We've got $60. We're gonna rent a fishing boat and get her back."

 

That's when Barry notices the pile in the center of their planning circle. The contents of their emptied out piggy banks, some notes but mostly coins, hits him square in the chest. Sympathy isn't hard to come by, he really liked Maura, too, thought she was good for them, for Jane. Feels like maybe in another life the two women would have been perfect for each other.

 

With a hard sigh he crouches, joining their circle to gently break some bad news, "No fishing boat's gonna catch a yacht, guys, especially at that price."

 

It hurts to see them so sad and certainly explains Jane's mood to an extent. Realizing just how central Maura had become to this family, how emotionally attached they had all become is something he hadn't expected.

 

"Maybe she'll decide to come back," Charlie says absently, breaking up the silence. 

 

Suddenly the door opens and Jane sticks her head in. Barry doesn't know how long she's been out there listening but clearly she's picked up eavesdropping tips from Angela.

 

"She's on her way to New York!" she informs, resignation marring her face. 

 

"This is a job for Dr Death," Johnny cries, punching a fist into the air as if he's a caped crusader about to fly away. 

 

"Yeah, Dr Death could do it!" echoes Andy. 

 

"We gotta do somethin'. Right, Ma?"

 

Travis looks to the brunette with so much hope it clearly pains her to respond. And when she does, it is much more harsh than she intends.

 

"Wrong!" she barks, cursing the break in her voice. "Now, she's gone, guys. She hates me!" It takes a pause to get herself under control again but her face is already hot and red and she disgusted with herself. Inviting no further argument or discussion, she looks pointedly at each child in turn. "She's got her rich husband back... and her rich life and that's the end of it."

 

They can only sit and watch as she turns away, the door clattering closed behind her. 

 

oOo

 

Maura was hoping to retire to her room but Garrett already occupies it. He's talking on the phone as she pushes silently into the space through a door half open.

 

Far more galling than his words is the fact that he's not even discreet.

 

"But, Harmony, I need you. I'll be in New York again soon enough, baby." 

 

Listening intently, she stands with her arms folded across her chest, lips pursed and one unamused eyebrow raised. 

 

"Oh, yeah. Just you and me, beautiful. Oh, really? What exactly will you do to me?"

 

When his free hand disappears down the front of his unzipped chinos she thinks she might throw up. Her swift exit is just as silent as her entrance. 

 

oOo

 

In the galley on the lower deck, Maura has several uniformed crew and two white coated chefs lined up beside her. They each have their own shot glass, lemon wedge, and salt shaker set in front of them on the counter. 

 

"All together," she sings brightly, leading the charge toward the tequila. "And... Lick, shake, lick. Drink! Suck!"

 

They all do as instructed, simultaneously downing their slammers, slurping and hissing and grimacing at the salty sour burn. 

 

Pointing a finger in Susie's face, Maura squeals and laughs, "You sucked first!"

 

"No, I didn't! I did it right!" Susie objects with a grin. 

 

The sous chef lets out a quiet gasp, muttering to his colleague and pointing at his watch. "Gotta go! Let's go!"

 

"Oh, yes,” the head chef nods before smiling and pointing at Maura. “Croissants in the morning!"

 

She hadn’t realized it was so late and feels bad that they’ll be up in a few hours to make her breakfast. "Dinner was wonderful,” she calls after them as they leave. “Merci beaucoup. Bonne nuit."

 

The other crew members quickly retire and Maura turns to follow.

 

Susie stops her with a gentle hand on her arm, handing the blonde the earrings she removed earlier. "You'd better not lose these again, ma'am."

 

Eyebrows drawn together, Maura says, "Again?"

 

"Forgive me but..." Susie lets out a snort before trying to copy Maura at her most arrogant. "'Susie! I seem to have lost my diamond earrings somewhere between... 64th... and... 68th Street.'" She lifts her chin and waves her hand in a shooing motion, trying to appear entitled yet bored all at once. "'Find them!'" she mimics.

 

Maura's head falls forward and she catches her face in her hands. Shame burns hot against the skin of her palms. "I've behaved so badly," she says when she looks up, her hazel eyes soft and her voice warm. "I don't know how you put up with me for so long. You've done so many wonderful things for me and I've never even once said thank you. I'm sorry."

 

A quick burst of air escapes Susie, a half cough half laugh that she thinks might be considered impolite. This situation is absurd, the words being spoken by her boss are unexpected and it just slips out, but she recovers enough composure to smile and nod. "Apology accepted, ma'am." Susie thought it would end there but still Maura doesn't leave. She just continues looking pensive and... lost.

   

This woman, whoever she claims to be, is definitely not Maura Fairfield.

 

Crew gossip is rife, so she knows the change in Maura has a lot to do with the person who found her and where she's been living the last two months. And while she would never wish a head injury or amnesia on anyone, not even a snotty rich bitch, she thinks, for Maura's own sake, it is probably the best thing to ever happen to her. 

 

"Everyone thinks I'm crazy. Do you think they're right?"

 

Susie shakes her head. "Oh, no, ma'am. Not at all. Most of us... go through life with blinders on, knowing only that one little station to which we were born.” She braves putting a hand on Maura’s where the blonde leans on the counter. “But you, on the other hand, have had the rare privilege of escaping your bonds to see life from an entirely new perspective.”

 

Maura gives her a look that she can’t quite read and so she decides to finish the clean up before heading to bed. Taking the hint, Maura turns to leave but Susie’s final words hit their mark and she inhales like she’s sucking in courage.

 

“How you choose to use that information... is entirely up to you." 

 

oOo

 

Refusing to sleep next to Garrett creates a problem. Ordinarily Maura would have her pick of the spare suites but, with her mother and her therapist taking up a room each, her only option is the couch.

 

It is oddly comforting to lie down on the narrow cushions and cover herself with a blanket. She almost wishes it were raining. Nostalgia is a funny thing, she chuckles to herself, recalling many uncomfortable nights in the Rizzoli's living room.

 

Try as she might, she can't turn her brain off, even with the gentle rocking of the boat that used to lull her to sleep. Tossing and turning, she can't help but reflect on her experiences and how they've changed her perspective.

 

None of what surrounds her feels like hers; the plush furnishings, the artwork, it's all just material. She didn't work for it, didn't earn it or make it herself, didn't sweat over it or design it. Someone else did all the work while she just wrote the check. Where once her lifestyle filled her with a false sense of accomplishment, now she just feels... empty.

 

Even her vast closet holds no comfort. What point is there in gilding the lily if there are no loving eyes upon you to appreciate it? At least with Jane she was guaranteed a look. The brunette thought she was subtle, with her sideways glances and her lustful stares when she thought Maura wouldn't notice. Even in something as frightful as her nightgown Maura could still feel dark eyes roaming the contours of her curves. Subtle as a brick.

 

Sighing, she leans up to pummel her fist into a particularly firm pillow, hoping it will help to ease the ache crawling up her neck. But it's barely five minutes before she sits up. The longer she stays here the more hopeless she feels. The thought of another 48 hours with her mother's therapist is unbearable. The thought of spending another minute married to Garrett makes her sick.

 

Given the choice, she'd rather hop the deck rail than be stuck here in the morning.

 

After several more minutes where she doesn't move, chewing on her lip and nervously picking lint from the blanket as she runs options and theories and probabilities, only one thing is clear. She will never actually be brave enough to voluntarily jump the rail.

 

But she does have a choice.

 

oOo

 

Barefoot and still in her gold evening dress, Maura barges unannounced onto the bridge. "Captain Doyle?"

 

"Yes, ma'am?" he startles, removing his feet from where they are propped up and quickly shoving on his hat.

 

"We've never really had time to talk, get to know each other," she says softly, approaching the wheel.

 

His eyebrows are firmly drawn, the situation very unusual. "No, we haven't," he drawls.

 

"Well, there's no time now," she shrugs, grabbing the wheel and turning it forcefully.

   

"What are you doing?" he squeaks, reaching to still her hands.

 

Swatting him away, she feels her shoulders lift, her heaviness lightened, "Turning the boat around."

 

Removing his hat again, the man scratches his head. "Why?"

 

There’s a pause as she continues turning the wheel, reveling in the rebelliousness that has set her insides on fire. Flashing him the biggest grin she turns back to the window, smiling out into the darkness and the destination that awaits.

 

"I'm going home." 


	18. Chapter 18

When the sun rises and Garrett wakes, Maura can hear his angry outburst coming from their bedroom inside the cabin.

 

"Captain!" he bellows. "Why is the land on the wrong side of the yacht? Oh, she did?"

 

Perched on her sun lounger, where she's spent the rest of the night wrapped up in her blanket unable to sleep, she shifts her gaze from the mesmerizing horizon to the window. Garrett stares daggers at her, his flared nostrils shooting condensation upon the glass where his nose is pressed up against it. Staring back, she can only smirk in satisfaction, amused that the simple act effortlessly heightens his rage.

 

"Well, she's gone too far this time. I am done being treated like an idiot!" 

 

If the other occupants of the boat aren't already awake at this early hour, they will be now, she thinks, as he bangs down the intercom handset and slams the bedroom door behind him. 

 

"So we're heading back to Swampland?!" he fumes as soon as his feet hit the deck outside the cabin.

 

Full of an odd sense of calm, she's not seeking permission, doesn't need his understanding, doesn't want anything from him except to let her go. She glances down at the ring she retrieved while he slept, her left hand splayed on her thigh as her right fiddles with the macaroni at her neck. "I want to go back, Garrett," she states simply. 

 

"To her?!" he shrieks.

 

"Yes," she nods firmly, heart rate picking up as she glances at him briefly. "I'm sorry."

 

He's already storming back inside as he growls, low and threatening, "You haven't begun to be sorry, you fucking hillbilly!" 

 

oOo

 

Jane hasn't slept a wink, thoughts of Maura swirling in her mind, constant through every crawling minute of darkness.

 

The boys barely touch their breakfast, running out the back door as soon as she waves them off, forcing the garbage disposal to eat four bowls of soggy cornflakes.

 

As she rinses dishes, instead of leaving them dirty on the table as is her inclination, it is yet more thoughts of her would-be soulmate that drive her.

 

Everything is different.

 

Maura's spirit seems to haunt her home, in every room where she left her mark. Jane can't escape the cleanliness and order, the smattering of objects they acquired together, the homey touches Maura added with her own fair hands. She's imprinted here, in Jane's bed, in her heart, behind her eyelids as she sighs heavy over the sink.

 

Swallowing hard, she dries her hands and reaches for her phone. She knows swallowing her pride comes next.

 

oOo

 

Storming onto the bridge like a Pamplona bull let loose, Garrett physically hauls his uniformed crew toward the doorway. "Doyle, go below with the crew. I'm taking over." Leaning further into the opening, he yells at Maura's aide as she approaches, drawn by the commotion. "Susie, go get Dr.  Korman! Go!"

 

When he turns back to the wheel, the co-captain has taken over navigation in place of his ousted superior. "Get out of my way!" he shouts, body checking the man away from the steering apparatus. 

 

"But, sir!" he exclaims, clearly confused by the sudden and hostile takeover. 

 

"I'm in charge!" Garrett barks, swiftly turning the wheel, and the boat, in the opposite direction. "We're coming about... full speed ahead!"

 

oOo

 

Here goes nothing, Jane thinks as she strides across the lawn.

 

"Who is it?" the boys yell in unison, answering the thumping fist on the shed door.

 

"Dr. Death," she shouts, waiting for them to catch on. "You gruesome ghouls wanna perform a rescue or what? Let's go!"

 

"We're gonna go get her!" Johnny squeals as the four come rushing out into the backyard. 

 

Jane waves them on, already stalking determinedly back into the house. "Come on! Korsak said his friends'll help us!" 

 

oOo

 

There's no sense in trying to wrestle him for control of the wheel, so Maura stands back, arms folded casually across her chest. "Whatever you do, I'm getting off at the next port."

 

"Don't be ridiculous," he spits, " _Nobody_  leaves a Fairfield."

 

"I don't love you," she sighs, tired of the fight. "Please try to understand that."

 

Garrett throws his hands up with a scoff. "What has love got to do with marriage?"

 

"Clearly nothing!" she barks, reacting on instinct to him hitting a specific nerve, releasing years of resentment that she's kept bottled up. "I knew that as soon as I caught you fucking the maid one month after our wedding and then the pool boy three weeks after that!"

 

A quick snort of air from his nose is all the acknowledgement she receives. No denial, no regret, nothing. It makes things easier in a way, she supposes, wishing now that she hadn't already apologized. 

 

"You'd actually prefer living in squalor with that cave dwelling dyke!"

 

That's rich, she bristles, given their coincidental bisexuality was one of very few things they had in common in the beginning. But the next words out of his mouth are really what knock the wind out of her. 

 

"They should have kept you locked in that hospital psych ward!"

 

"What did you say?" she rasps, a deep frown paining her brows. "How did you know that? You left me there, didn't you?" Whisper quiet disbelief is quickly replaced by fury. "You bastard! How could you? After everything I gave up to be with you! I should have been a doctor, not some preposterous, pathetic trophy wife!"

 

"Call me all the names you want, blame me for everything, I don't care." Turning away from the wheel, he stalks menacingly toward her. "Do you wanna know what I was doing while you were gone? I'll tell you. I was partying with hookers. I fucked them, too," he sneers, jabbing an index finger in her face, "and they loved it!"

 

Maura sniffs as he turns, moving back to the wheel.

 

Many bad things have happened to her over the years, some of them well deserved, and at least one she earned by her own actions - instigating Jane's payback. She realizes that know, but this... it leaves her speechless. Fathoming how she ever deserved such vile treatment is something her vast brain can't compute.

 

"Yes. I did leave you! So what?"

 

Turning her back, she slinks quietly off the bridge, numb to the sting of him admitting what she already knew to be true.

 

oOo

 

From the open bridge of a United States Coast Guard motor speedboat, Lieutenant Commander Cavanaugh regards his lifelong friend with apprehension.  "I really hope I don't get court-martialled for this, Vince."

 

Korsak claps the man on the shoulder, "Yeah, I owe you one."

 

The uniformed man flicks his chin in the direction of his subordinate. "Anything in the manual, Martinez?"

 

Trying not to sneer outright, the crewman is still unable to mask his opinion that the mission is ridiculous. "Not about pulling alongside a ship and telling a passenger you love them, sir." His sarcasm earns him a well deserved glare from his superior. 

 

"Well, put your nose back in that book and find something!" orders Cavanaugh.

 

Suitably chastened, Petty Officer Martinez turns away as Korsak smirks. "Aye, Sir."

 

"Vessel sighted straight ahead, sir!" Seaman Crowe declares, binoculars pressed to his face.

 

Korsak moves to get a closer look for himself as Cavanaugh demands, "Identify."

 

"I can’t," Crowe grumbles, "There's a fat guy in my way, sir."

 

Head whipping around, Korsak lunges, trying to scruff the annoying junior officer. "Who you callin' fat, you little weasel! Come here!"

 

The roof mounted loudspeaker sounds as they speed closer, Martinez attempting to make contact. "Auras Smile. Come in, Auras Smile."

 

Jane's voice sounds from the bow, yelling through a handheld loudspeaker as she points at the yacht. "That's her, Korsak! That's her!"

 

As the man peers down at the family on deck, arms waving in all directions, Korsak watches Johnny snatch the device from his mother. "Stop that boat," he booms out across the waves, channeling Pee Wee Herman as usual. "Let me get my mom!"

 

oOo

 

Ducking inside the engine room, Maura cries, "How do I stop the boat? I have to stop the boat!"

The only crew member in sight, a heavily tanned man wearing the most startled expression she’s ever seen, snaps his head in her direction. He’s filthy, oil smudges and general grime marring his dark features, the starkest contrast imaginable to her fair skin and immaculate evening wear. "Ma’am, only the Captain can stop the boat," he informs, studying her from head to toe, clearly wondering what Mrs. Fairfield is doing down here for the first time in her life and whether or not he’s going to survive the experience.

 

" _I'm_  the captain!” she barks, immediately killing all argument as the crew member jumps to attention. “No, please don't salute! I have to find the emergency stop -" she murmurs to herself as she pushes past him, eyes scouring the walls, frantically feeling her way around. “A-ha! Here it is!" she exclaims as she locates a big red button on the back wall in between two metal junction boxes.

 

"No, please!" the man begs fruitlessly, arms reaching out to pull her back as she smashes her palm against the button repeatedly.

 

The engines die instantly and the silence is music to her ears. "Yes, it stopped!” She turns back to the man, eyes wide with excitement, gripping him by the shoulders. “Now, I need to get us turned around. How can we -?"

 

But her question is drowned out by the loud horn blast of another boat.

 

She stares at the open doorway likes it’s an escape hatch and she’s been trapped down there for years, gasping as the boat makes two more horn blasts, rocketing her heart rate into the stratosphere.

 

“She's here! She's here!” she squeals, jumping up and down, grinning wildly as the confused man is jostled beneath her hands. “That's her!" 

 

Sprinting up the stairs to the lower deck, she rushes straight to the yacht’s edge, her midriff colliding with the rail. The Coast Guard boat is still a distance away but she can clearly see a tall figure on the bow, long raven locks blowing in the wind.

 

"She's here!" she laughs, clutching both hands over her galloping heart.

 

Garrett’s voice booms from the deck directly above her. "That’s fuckin’ mutiny. She's at the bottom of this mutiny. I'm gonna rid myself of this albatross."

 

 _Really?_ she thinks, _now_ he’s going to let her go?

 

"Jane!" she cries, waving her arms above her head. _Come get me_ , she begs silently _. I choose you!_ She’s too busy to notice Susie coming up behind her.

 

"Ma’am, the ship has stopped! What happened?” she asks, face full of concern.

 

“Nothing,” Maura gushes, grabbing the woman’s hands in her own, still beaming from ear to ear. “Everything’s wonderful,” she breathes, glancing back over her shoulder again at the smaller boat that keeps getting closer and closer.

 

oOo

 

"Message over the radio, sir." Crowe passes a slip of paper to Lieutenant Commander Cavanaugh, slipping Korsak a smirk as does so.

 

Catching sight of a waving blonde, her gold dress glinting and sparkling in the early morning sun, Jane screams across the surface of the water for all she’s worth, hands cupping the sides of her mouth. "Maura! Ha-ha!" She can’t hold in the disbelieving laughter that bubbles up from deep within, sure that Maura wouldn’t want anything to do with her suddenly it seems she was very wrong. It feels a lot like winning the lottery.

 

"Looks like the fun's over,” Cavanaugh states brusquely, turning to look at Korsak. “We've got some poachers fishing in illegal waters. That takes precedence over your friend's love life.”

 

Korsak gives him an imperceptible nod. There’s no sense in arguing his request for a favor over serious official business, though Sean does look mildly apologetic.

 

“Come about!" the Lieutenant orders.

 

Crowe moves down onto the deck, trying to retrieve the handheld loudspeaker from a very stubborn Johnny, "Son, no more radio. Now give it back."

 

Quick to intervene and pinning a warning look on the snotty little man who seems to like giving children orders a little too much, Jane stands in his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey, wait a...” Craning up to the open bridge she shouts, “Hey, Vince! What's goin' on?"

 

"We're turnin' round,” he explains, “They're going after some poachers."

 

“No, no, no,” Jane mutters under her breath, snapping back around to get another look at the yacht as their direction begins to change. Their boats are so close, _she_ is so close, can already almost feel Maura in her hands again, and it makes her fingers tingle as she imagines the blonde slipping away.

 

oOo

 

Maura’s smile quickly drops off as the Coast Guard boat starts to turn away. "She's leaving,” she breathes, a hand latching desperately onto Susie at her side. “Oh no. Where's she going?"

 

"Catarina!" she hears Jane cry, watching the brunette climb onto the side of the Coast Guard’s vessel.

 

Maura’s heart leaps into her throat. Jane’s use of the legendary name she’d heard about on the most magical night of her life fills her instantly with all the love she had felt in Jane’s arms. “Arturo!” she calls back.

 

Several uniformed crew scramble to stop Jane from doing what it looks like she’s planning, but they’re not fast enough as the brunette yells "I'm coming!" and dives into the ocean.

 

"Shit! Sound the horn,” grumbles Cavanaugh. “Coming about again, Crowe."

 

"Woman overboard!" Martinez’s voice booms from the Coast Guard loudspeaker as Maura gasps, leaning over the rail, eyes searching for her love.

 

"Maura!" Jane sputters as soon as she breaks the surface.

 

The blonde already has one leg over the rail in her attempt to follow Jane’s lead.

 

"Oh, no, ma'am. I cannot let you do this!" Susie snaps, grabbing her upper arm firmly.

 

"What?" Maura shouts, eyebrows shooting upward, shocked that the one person she might have called a friend on this godforsaken vessel is stopping her from chasing her destiny. But she needn’t have worried when Susie breaks into a smile.

 

"Not without a lifejacket," she says, before retrieving and securely fitting a bright orange life preserver to her employer.

 

"Jane! I'm coming!" Maura cries without further delay, slinging one leg after the other over the rail until she sits precariously on the edge.

 

Susie chuckles at the ridiculous blonde. "You could play a little harder to get, y’know."

 

"Tell my mother I'll call her!" Maura says, parting with a wink and pushing herself off into the water below.

   

"Woman overboard!” crackles the Coast Guard loudspeaker again.

 

Crowe leans into the Lieutenant as he lowers his binoculars, “She's wearing an evening dress, sir."

 

"Let's go! My moms are out there! Let me..." Travis shouts.

 

Korsak watches him lift the last of his siblings over the side before Cavanaugh grabs his attention with a heavy sigh.

 

"Do me a favor, Vince… Get those kids out of the damn rescue boat."

 

 Everyone freezes as gun shots blast the air overhead.

 

On the upper deck of the Auras Smile, Garrett Fairfield has lost his mind. Peering over the edge at the two women still swimming toward each other, he screams, "Stop! You treasonous tramp! Conspiring with the enemy at sea is mutiny!"

 

He’s lining up another shot with his revolver, a deadly sneer marring his features. It’s clear it’s not going to be a warning shot this time and Jane treads water, staring up into his devilish eyes and praying silently under her breath.

 

Lord help her, if he snatches Maura away from her a second time she promises to hunt him down and make sure he sleeps with the fishes.

 

Whatever her wish, before anyone knows what is happening he is falling. Falling headfirst overboard, his gun flies out of his hand as he screams in panic.

 

"Another man overboard!" shouts the loudspeaker, Martinez starting to sound a little bored at the repetition.

 

Garrett surfaces, exploding out of the water with a furious roar, both hands empty.

 

Everyone lets out a huge sigh of relief and Susie appears on the top deck, peering down at Mr. Fairfield as he spits and shivers. "Consider that my resignation,  _sir_!" she calls, offering a casual salute before flipping him the finger and disappearing with a laugh.

 

As a strong swimmer, Jane makes headway much faster than the blonde, but then she’s not wearing a life preserver that impedes every arm stroke.

 

"Maura!" she beams breathlessly, finally able to reach out and touch the woman.

 

Letting herself be hauled into strong arms, the blonde gladly accepts the immediate shower of desperate kisses that rain down all over her face, "Oh, Jane!" she pants,

 

"Maura! I’m so sorry! I love you!” Jane professes adamantly, taking chilled rosy cheeks between her palms to ensure their eyes meet. “I'll never leave you again! Ever. I'll never let you go! I’m so in love with you, Maura." 

 

Blurting a teary laugh, Maura shucks her life preserver off one shoulder in order to get her arms further around her woman. Never has her heart felt so close to bursting. “I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers, lips a hairsbreadth from Jane’s mouth before they meet properly.

 

Jane moans softly as Maura wraps shapely legs around her lower body. She’s never seen the gold dress before but it’s definitely a keeper even if it is totally ridiculous for taking a dive into the bay.

 

"Woman overboard is kissing the other woman overboard,” squawks Seaman Crowe as the Coast Guard vessel pulls up slowly beside the bobbing bodies. “Our rescue boat is deployed to starboard. The guy with the gun is being pulled in at port. It's a helluva day at sea, sir."

 

"I can't believe you did it," Jane gawps at the blonde.

 

Even Maura can’t believe the things she done today. No one could have predicted it, least of all her. She’s never felt less _and_ more like herself at the same time. "Oh, I saw you jump so I jumped!" she exclaims, lifting her arms in the air in celebration. She’d made her choice, found the courage from god knows where, and freed herself.

 

Jane shakes her head, suitably impressed at her bravery, but, "No, I don't mean that. I can't believe you gave all that up just for me."

 

 _Oh_. "I didn't," Maura smiles softly.

 

Eyebrows scrunched tightly together, Jane does a double take, confused, "What do... What do you mean?"

 

"Well, the truth is…” Shaking fingers stroke down Jane’s cheek, “… it's mine; the boat, the money, everything. _I_ didn’t marry into money, honey… Garrett did.” Jane’s jaw is slack and Maura’s smile drops off for a moment as she watches the cogs turn and waits for a reaction.

 

Realization takes a second to dawn, but when it does, dark eyebrows lift and pink lips draw into a bright smile.

 

Maura’s anxiety floats away and the corners of her mouth turn upward again. Grinning and wiggling her eyebrows draws a low chuckle from the brunette who grips her tightly by the waist as they tread water and wait to be rescued.

 

There’s not a single thing to worry about, she thinks. From now on, they’re going to be just fine. Together.

 

oOo

 

As the boat cruises into dock, Jane and Maura stand on the deck, wrapped together in a single blanket. With wet hair slicked back and arms encircling each other's waist, they nuzzle their noses, eyes only for their love.

 

"Did you tell 'em?" Maura asks, her breath washing over Jane's face.

 

“That it turns out you’re not just a smarty pants but actually _Doctor_ smarty pants?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Maura swats feebly at the brunette. “No. About the money,” she drawls.

 

"Yeah," Jane chuckles, dipping her head for a second before tipping it to the side in the direction of their children. "They're making out their Christmas lists."

 

"Oh, already?" Maura laughs sweetly, dropping her forehead to meet Jane's. It’s not a surprise really; the boys have never had very much. She’s looking forward to spoiling them all rotten.

 

"Johnny wanted to know how to spell _Porsche_ ," Jane informs, making them both crack up.

 

When the laughs die down, Jane inhales deeply, pulling Maura to her tightly. "They did get me thinking, though. What can I possibly give you, _ever_ , that you don't already have?"

 

“Oh…” Maura breathes, gazing adoringly into Jane’s warm chocolate eyes. Pushing a hand up from beneath the blanket, she toys with silky dark curls for a moment before cupping Jane’s face. Fingers trace a strong jaw, dip into the handsome cleft of her chin before moving up to the nape of her neck.

 

Pulling Jane towards her, she plants a slow, sensuous kiss on chilled lips. Jane makes her want everything all at once, the life she dreamed of two decades ago.

 

When their eyes meet again, her smile is brighter than the sun.

 

"A little girl."


End file.
